


Alone, With You

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2421566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan encounters a stranger while out in the cold and somehow ends up taking him home with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was getting cold.

The clouds were no longer the pristine, cottony white wisps of summer that they had been a week before. Instead, they were now dark and grey and gloomy, an ominous presence in the sky that heralded the end of the warm, sunny days on the mountain.

Logan pulled his jacket closer around him as he pushed forward up the slope. The cold didn’t bother him all that much but the day wasn’t going to get any warmer and only a fool would be outside in this weather without any sort of protective clothing. The air had a bite to it that would make even the most warm-blooded man shiver, and although there wasn’t yet any ice, it wouldn’t be long before the ground became wet and slippery.

The sudden drop in temperature had come as a surprise, but for the most part it didn’t bother Logan. The weather didn’t greatly affect his routine one way or another: one of the benefits of living a solitary life in the wilderness away from civilisation was that he was completely and wholly self-sufficient. He didn’t have anywhere to be and he didn’t have anyone to worry about. If the snow came early and cut him off from the rest of humanity, then it was only building on his own efforts in that direction and Logan had no problems with that whatsoever. 

There was only one real hitch that the sudden chill made to Logan’s routine and that was the one that he was currently heading off to rectify. He had been planning on making a trip to stock up on firewood in a couple of weeks time, but the change in temperature meant that he had to move that date forward. He hadn’t minded so much: his time was his own and it made very little difference to him when he got things done as long as they did eventually get done at some point. Very little inconvenienced him around these parts; he could handle making allowances for the weather when he had to.

The path he was walking on rose steeply ahead of him. Logan adjusted the weight of the axe on his shoulder as he navigated his way up to the forest, his eyes scanning the ground in front of him for loose rock. He would spend the morning chopping wood and would then come back for the logs in the afternoon, or maybe the next day. He wasn’t on any sort of schedule, after all, and he liked to take his time when he was working: for some reason he found the act of cutting wood to be soothing, and he was looking forward to a good few hours of labour before he had to return to the cabin.

He gradually slowed down as he approached his destination, pausing to take a deep breath as he entered the wooded area. The air was fresh and clean and the smell of pines was both familiar and comforting. A bird whistled overhead and Logan felt a sense of calmness descend over him. Not many people would understand it, he knew, but he felt almost as much at home surrounded by the woods as he did in his own hand-built log cabin.

Resuming his walk, he moved along slowly, idly thinking about how much wood he needed to cut and debating how long his current stockpile would last. He paid no attention to the area around him, immersed as he was in his thoughts, and as completely relaxed as a man like him could ever be. It was therefore completely understandable that he did not notice the small, pale figure perched on the fallen log to his left until it spoke to him.

‘Hello.’

Logan’s thoughts scattered at the sound. He went completely still, a sense of displacement causing him to freeze involuntarily for a fraction of a second as he tried to process what he had heard. Then his spine went rigid and he whirled around, his muscles tensing and his hands instinctively wrapping around the handle of his axe in anticipation of an attack, his mouth drawn up in a feral snarl. His eyes were immediately drawn to the figure sitting on the log, and it took a moment for Logan to comprehend what it was that he was seeing. 

His violent ferocity abruptly disappeared. He stood completely still and stared at the person in front of him, feeling slightly bemused.

There, sitting on the log with a pleasant smile on his face, was a brown-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Well, Logan’s brain corrected after a moment, not quite a boy. A man. A young man. Who was quite possibly a hallucination brought on by sudden oxygen deprivation or a screw coming loose in Logan’s brain. 

Logan deliberately tried not to think too long on the latter possibility. Instead, he focused his attention on the immediate problem and stared dumbly at the figure sat before him. The stranger didn’t seem to mind his scrutiny and smiled at Logan, meeting his eyes with an easy and vague sort of pleasantness.

‘Hello,’ said the young man/possible hallucination.

Logan blinked, feeling oddly wrong-footed by the simple greeting. He shifted uncertainly. Was it usual for a hallucination to greet you like that? He had no idea. So he stayed silent and didn’t respond; it was the only reasonable response that he could make, really, because a) what was the point in talking to a freaking hallucination anyway and b) what the actual _fuck_?

The stranger didn’t seem to be too put off by his silence, however. ‘Rather cold out, isn’t it?’ he asked companionably, his voice low and pleasant. Only the shiver that ran through his body hinted that he was anything other than comfortable.

Logan kept quiet and instead cast a critical eye over him. The kid – because Christ, he couldn’t be more than twenty – looked cold. Really cold. Not just because of the thin white button-down shirt that he was wearing (and if that wasn’t a mark in the ‘non-hallucination’ column then Logan didn’t know what was, because there was no way in hell that he would ever hallucinate some silly, pretty twenty-something in fucking _formal-wear_ , thank you very much) but because, from the blue tinge to his cheeks, it appeared that the kid had been out in the cold for a damn long time.

That, more than anything moved Logan to speak – not out of concern, of course, but purely for the fact that anyone who had spent the night sitting on a log on the top of a mountain was a complete idiot and deserved to be told as much.

‘Who are you?’ Logan demanded, eyeing the stranger with muted suspicion. The kid didn’t _appear_ dangerous but then again he didn’t exactly seem like the sort who randomly appeared in the middle of nowhere dressed as if he was heading for a fucking dinner party either. ‘What are you doing here?’

The kid blinked at that. ‘I – I don’t know,’ he said, blankly, frowning a little. His brow furrowed and his mouth twisted in consternation as if the questions had stumped him.

Logan let out a snort. ‘What, you don’t know who you are or you don’t know what you’re doing here?’ he asked, unable to keep the scorn out of his voice.

The kid’s eyebrows drew closer together and he shook his head, looking slightly baffled. ‘Neither,’ he said, turning a wide-eyed gaze on Logan, the expression making him look even younger than before. ‘I – I’m afraid that I don’t know either.’

Logan studied the stranger for a moment and then slowly lowered his axe to the ground. _Goddamn college kids_ , he thought grumpily, eyeing the boy with irritation. _Kid probably got stinking drunk and got dumped here by his no-good asshole friends as some kind of stupid prank._ He deliberately did not dwell on the fact that the nearest educational institution was hundreds of miles away or that he hadn’t heard the sound of a single helicopter or plane in the last few days.

He let out a huff and trained his harsh gaze on the kid. ‘You don’t know,’ he repeated sceptically, raising an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you’re saying. You don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here but you decided that it would be a good idea to sit yourself down on a tree in the cold and wait for some guy to walk along and ask you how you’re doing?’ 

The kid didn’t react to the disbelief in Logan’s voice; he just watched him with the same anxious, wide-eyed expression. ‘I was cold,’ he said in a quiet voice, before looking down at his feet. ‘I thought – I thought it would be a good idea if I sat down.’

Something about the tone of the kid’s voice made Logan take a step forward, his forehead creasing with sudden misgiving. ‘You okay, bub?’ he asked gruffly, feeling slightly worried despite himself. 

‘I-’ the boy shook his head, frowning again. ‘I don’t know. My leg hurts, and my head – my head doesn’t feel too good either.’

Logan hesitated for a moment. Then he made his decision. ‘Right,’ he said grimly, putting his axe down carefully on the ground and then moving forward. ‘Let me have a look.’

‘Oh,’ the stranger looked vaguely startled and he tensed as Logan approached but Logan was gentle as he took the kid’s face in his hands and lightly turned it so that the back of his head faced him. He then let out a low growl when he saw the matted hair on the boy’s skull, causing the boy to jump.

‘I think I know why you don’t remember shit right now,’ Logan said grimly, gently touching the wounded area on the boy’s head before drawing back. He stood there for a moment, eyeing the kid thoughtfully. He then glanced at his axe, lying abandoned on the floor, before turning back to the kid. The boy stared up at him, wide-eyed and anxious. And then a particularly violent gust of wind blew and he shivered.

Logan caved.

‘Right,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re coming with me.’

The kid blinked up at him, looking slightly dazed. ‘What?’ he asked, hesitant.

Logan glared down at him. ‘Your head’s split open,’ he said flatly. ‘And you don’t know up from down right now. So you can either come with me or you can wait for the next jackass who walks by here to save your ass – but, let me tell you, you’re gonna be waiting a long time, bub. Nobody else comes around these parts. ‘Specially not at this time of the year.’

‘Um,’ the kid said but then shut his mouth again, apparently not knowing how to react to that. 

‘Save your breath,’ Logan muttered, reaching down to curl a surprisingly gentle arm around the stranger’s shoulders. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘Oh – okay,’ the kid said meekly, gingerly resting his hand on Logan’s shoulders. ‘I really must thank you for your – aghh!’ He let out a shout of pain as his leg crumpled beneath him.

Logan quickly lowered him back down to the log, taking care to ensure that he was properly situated before turning to his leg. ‘Shit,’ he grunted, crouching down so that he was eye-level with the stranger’s knees. ‘You said your leg was hurting …’

‘Yes,’ the boy said tightly, his face even paler than before. ‘Quite.’

Logan frowned. Then, with a glance upwards for permission, he slowly reached out and carefully took the kid’s left leg in between his two hands and then gently pulled up the trouser leg. He let out a small hiss when he saw the swollen, reddened ankle before him.

‘Christ,’ he swore. He turned to the kid with a grim look. ‘You’re not gonna be walking anywhere on that, bub.’

The stranger swallowed. ‘Is it broken?’ he asked in a strangely level voice.

Logan looked back down at the ankle. He lifted his finger and gently probed the swollen skin. The kid winced but he didn’t otherwise react. He was tougher than he looked, Logan thought approvingly.

‘No,’ he said at last, pulling back and sitting on his heels. ‘Looks like you just sprained it. Not gonna lie, though – it ain’t pretty. Like I said, you’re not going to go walking anywhere any time soon, pal.’

The kid swallowed and then nodded. ‘Okay,’ he said, lifting his chin bravely. ‘Thanks for that. I’ll just …’ he trailed off, turning his face away.

Logan watched him keenly for a moment. Then he let out a grunt. ‘Well,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Come on then.’ He raised an eyebrow at the kid’s startled expression. ‘You didn’t think that I was just going to leave you here, did you? I said I’d take you back with me.’

‘But I can’t walk,’ the stranger protested, looking at him warily. ‘How could I …’

‘How could you get down the side of a mountain?’ Logan finished for him. He shrugged. ‘I got a wagon down at my cabin that I use for dragging wood. I reckon that it ought to be good for dragging around concussed guys with ankle injuries too.’ 

‘Oh,’ the stranger considered that for a moment before nodding seriously. ‘That – that sounds like a good idea.’

‘Yeah, I’m full of ‘em,’ Logan agreed, before taking a step backwards. ‘Now you just wait here while I-’

‘No!’ the stranger suddenly burst out, reaching after him with a sudden look of anxiety. He coloured when Logan raised an eyebrow at him but he didn’t draw his hand back. ‘I – I don’t want to be left alone,’ he said in a quiet voice, looking away as if he didn’t dare see Logan’s reaction.

Logan frowned. ‘Well,’ he said, reaching up and scratching his chin perplexedly. ‘Then it looks like me and you have a bit of a problem here, kid. Because you can’t get down from here without that wagon, and to get that wagon I need to go down and leave you here.’

‘I know,’ the stranger said, looking down at his feet slightly miserably. ‘I just – I don’t want to be left here on my own.’

Logan sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He glanced over at the kid, who looked cold and miserable, his messy brown hair lank and his eyes dim. Logan sighed. ‘Well then,’ he said gruffly, straightening up. ‘I guess there’s only one thing to do then.’

The kid looked at him questioningly, cocking his head. ‘What’s that?’ he asked cautiously, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Logan let out a grunt. ‘I’m gonna have to carry you,’ he said, shrugging, ignoring the way the kid’s eyes widened at that. He reached out and held out his arms. ‘Come on then, princess,’ he said. ‘Grab on.’

Slowly, the kid reached out and carefully wound his arms around Logan’s neck.

‘Shit,’ Logan gritted his teeth at the touch of the stranger’s hands on his skin. ‘You’re a fucking icicle.’

The kid grimaced at that. ‘Sorry,’ he said quietly, and then allowed himself to be caught up in Logan’s arms, hissing only once when his bad leg was jostled.

‘You okay there, bub?’ Logan asked brusquely, adjusting his grip on the boy’s torso.

The stranger swallowed and nodded. Before Logan could set off, however, he reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder.

‘Thank you,’ he said quietly when Logan turned to look at him. ‘Thank you, my friend.’

Logan didn’t know what to say to that, so he just let out a grunt and then turned and started making his way down the mountain.

And that was how Logan met Charles Xavier and ended up living with him in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for the next seven weeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's more.

A few hours later, and the boy was fast asleep in Logan’s bed, curled up close under the sheets while wearing a few old cast-offs that had begun to fit Logan just a bit too snugly.

The boy’s own clothes were now in Logan’s hands, and he carefully looked over them as he sat on a chair in front of the fire, scrutinising them for any clue of the kid’s identity. He wasn’t hoping for very much. Just something to tell them where the kid had come from or what he had been doing. Logan wasn’t fussy. Heck, he would be happy to find a clue to _anything_ at this point.

A name, for one. That would be nice. That would be _useful_. He couldn’t go about calling him ‘the kid’ all the damn time, after all. Especially when he didn’t know how long they would be cooped up together.

That thought had, of course, led Logan to take a moment to actually consider what it was that he was doing. This had then been followed by the swift realisation that he had now stuck himself with a complete and utter stranger who couldn’t even remember his own damn name for the next how-fucking-ever long it took for him to recover. Because the fact was that Logan lived on the side of a goddamn _mountain_ , which was tough enough to climb even when able-limbed, so there was no way in hell that blue-eyes there was ever going to make it down the mountain with that busted ankle of his. Not to mention the concussion. And Logan didn’t have a computer or a phone or any way to connect to the outside world to let it know that the universe had dropped a floppy-haired, blue-eyed amnesiac in his lap for shits and giggles. He didn’t even own a car. Heck, he didn’t even own a _bike_. The closest thing to transport that he owned was a small, hand-pulled wagon that he used for carting logs about, and while that might have been fine for conveying a concussed kid from the forest to his cabin, there was just no way that it would be able to get him all the way down the side of a freaking mountain. 

So that was that. The kid was staying and there was nothing that Logan could do about it. Not unless he wanted the blood of an innocent kid with a busted head and ankle on his hands, and quite frankly, Logan had enough of the stuff on his hands already to last him a lifetime.

Logan sighed and looked down at the clothes in his grasp. The search had been practically pointless: the clothes provided very little clue as to who the stranger lying in his bed was. They didn’t even have any labels. All Logan could tell, from his very, _very_ limited experience with such things, was that the clothes were expensive – at least, if the quality of cloth indicated anything. That, at least, seemed to indicate that the stranger was well-off – at the very least, he was _comfortable_ , and that meant that he either had a decent job or that he came from money. Either way, it was very likely that he would be missed and that someone out there would come looking for him.

Logan hoped that, whoever it was, they would come soon. Not just for the reason that he wasn’t overly fond of strangers, but also for the fact that – as he had only realised after the kid had tumbled into his bed and cocooned himself inside Logan’s sheets – there was only one bed in the cabin and Logan wasn’t the one currently in it. It wasn’t the happiest of realisations and, as Logan glanced around at the room he was in, it dawned on him that his cabin was singularly unsuited for receiving guests. 

There were only two habitable rooms in the cabin: the bedroom with the stranger and the main room that Logan was now sitting in, and quite frankly the bed was the only truly comfortable surface in the whole building. The main room had a sturdy wooden table and two chairs that Logan had made, like the rest of the cabin, with his own two hands, but neither of those was at all suitable for sleeping in. The rest of the main room housed a stove in the corner and a few shelves, but that was all. Logan looked across the room towards the fireplace on the other side and he grimaced; it looked like he would be sleeping on the floor in front of the fire that night. 

‘I hope you got yourself some good friends, kid,’ Logan muttered under his breath. ‘Because I’ll be wanting that bed back real soon.’

Scrutiny over, Logan sighed and set the stranger’s clothes aside. He supposed that it had been slightly too optimistic to hope that the shirt would have the stranger’s name sewed onto the back of the collar like he was some sort of child. It was a pity. A name would have made things a lot easier on the both of them. 

That led Logan to start thinking about the stranger’s apparent amnesia. Was it permanent, he wondered. If they were lucky, the kid would get his memories back and come up with some sort of logical explanation for what he was doing in the middle of nowhere all by himself, but if he didn’t … if he didn’t, then what were they to do? How far was Logan obligated to help him? 

Logan let out a frustrated grunt and rubbed his eyes with his fist. He was over-thinking things. All he had to do was look after the kid and take care of him till someone came looking for him or he remembered who he was. If that didn’t happen before his leg healed, then Logan would walk him down the mountain and see him safely to the nearest police station – and that was it. His duty would be done. His duty would be _more_ than done. All he would have to do is leave the kid in the hands of a friendly policeman and then he could come back to his cabin on his own and sleep in his own goddamn bed and go on happily enjoying his solitude just like he had before he had been ambushed by a baby-faced amnesiac in the middle of the woods.

Decision made, Logan nodded to himself and rose from his seat. He had decided against going out and chopping more wood while the stranger was sleeping; it wouldn’t do for the kid to wake up in a strange place all on his own while Logan was out somewhere across the mountain. Because obviously with his head-wound he would probably go and do something stupid like burn the cabin down while trying to stoke the fire, Logan reasoned. He wasn’t about to risk his cabin like that if he could help it.

His stomach chose that moment to make itself heard and Logan remembered with a grimace that he had never got around to eating anything that afternoon, what with the all the distractions he had faced. It was now fast approaching evening and the sky was darkening; it was high time that he ate something. He glanced over at the door to the bedroom and frowned slightly. The kid probably ought to eat something too, he thought distractedly. He had probably been too tired and cold to think about it when Logan had brought him home and so he had fallen into bed without bothering to eat anything first. There was no doubt that he would be waking up with a hungry stomach, though; Logan knew from experience how hungry the cold and the altitude could make a person, especially when they were not used to it.

Rubbing his hands down the front of his shirt, Logan turned his face towards the stove. And then he set forward.

One hour later and the door to the bedroom opened, allowing the tired form of the sleep-rumpled stranger to walk into the main room, his eyes still bleary and his face creased with sleep. He leaned heavily on the walls around him, awkwardly moving forward as he tried not to put any pressure on his injured ankle.

Logan turned around and, taking one look at the invalid, let out a curse. ‘What the hell are you doing out of bed?’ he growled, setting the down the ladle he had been using to stir the soup and stalking over to the stranger, who looked startled by his sudden ire. ‘Do you want to break that leg of yours for real?’

‘Not particularly,’ the stranger said tightly, bracing himself a little as Logan approached, tensing as he came to a stop right in front of him. ‘I just … felt a little hungry, I suppose.’

Logan let out a grunt at that, and then gestured towards the boy’s arm. ‘You’d better come sit down, then,’ he grumbled, waiting until the boy gave him a hesitant nod before wrapping an arm around him and all but dragging him over to the nearest wooden seat. ‘You wait here. I’ll bring you something to eat.’

The stranger nodded obediently and then waited, watching curiously as Logan dug out a second bowl and a spoon from a cupboard across the room and then filled the bowl with soup before bringing it over to the table.

‘Here,’ Logan grunted. ‘Eat it. You look like you need it.’

The kid didn’t move.

Logan waited for a moment, but when the silence continued he raised an eyebrow at the stranger. ‘What?’ he demanded, trying not to sound impatient. ‘You don’t like soup or something?’

The kid quickly shook his head. ‘No,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Nothing like that. It’s just …’ he paused and bit his lip. ‘I’m just … not sure what exactly happened. Here, I mean. I don’t …’ He shook his head and then peered up at Logan with a expression of complete bewilderment. ‘Who _are_ you? And what am I actually _doing_ here?’

Logan raised an eyebrow at that and, settling himself down in a chair, turned to look at the stranger with an even expression. ‘That’s funny,’ he said coolly, watching the boy closely. ‘Because that’s exactly what I was going to ask _you_.’

The boy’s eyes widened at that and his cheeks went slightly red. ‘Well,’ he said after a minute, in what was an impressively level tone, ‘They are very good questions.’ He paused. ‘Unfortunately, however, I believe that, out of the two of us, only one person would actually be able to give any sort of answer to them.’ He glanced up at Logan then and gave him a wry smile. ‘That person would not be me, I’m afraid.’

Logan eyed him closely. ‘Memory still gone, then?’ he asked, his voice gruff.

The stranger gave him a thin smile. ‘Considering that I have no idea who I am or what I’m doing here … then yes, I think it’s pretty safe to say that my memory hasn’t returned to me.’

Logan let out a huff of disappointment. ‘That’s a pity,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and patting at his pockets to try and find a leftover cigar in one of them. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be anything in his pockets except for bits of fluff. ‘Would have made things a hell of a lot simpler, that’s for sure.’

‘Simpler how?’ the stranger asked, narrowing his eyes a little.

Logan rolled his eyes at the muted suspicion that the stranger was radiating. ‘You were a lot less worried about things this morning,’ he remarked, crossing his ankles and placing his arms behind his head. ‘Though I guess that’s on account of the concussion. How’s your head, anyway?’

‘It’s fine,’ the stranger said cautiously. ‘And you still haven’t answered my question. _Any_ of my questions, actually.’

‘True,’ Logan nodded. He slowly uncrossed his legs and sat up in his seat. ‘But we all have to start somewhere I guess.’ He leaned forward and then nodded towards the bowl of soup in front of the stranger. ‘How about you start getting some of that stuff inside you in the meantime? I know a little something about being stuck on the side of a mountain myself, and it ain’t a picnic, I can tell you.’

The kid held his gaze for a moment, hesitating. Then his stomach gave a loud, sudden growl and he deflated, looking a little sheepish. ‘I am a little hungry,’ he admitted, which was an understatement if Logan had ever heard one. ‘I guess I could try it.’ He then gingerly reached for the spoon and carefully picked it up. He met Logan’s patient gaze for a moment and then quickly bent down and swallowed a spoonful of soup. He blinked. ‘Oh!’ he said, sounding almost shocked. ‘It’s good!’

Logan let out a snort and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘You sound surprised,’ he said dryly.

The kid’s cheeks went red at that. ‘No,’ he said quickly, stumbling. ‘I didn’t mean – I … I don’t actually know what I meant.’

Logan smirked. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, shrugging. ‘It’s not like you’ve got anything to compare it to. Not that you’d remember, anyway. Besides,’ he shrugged again. ‘It’s good to see that you’ve got _some_ sort of self-preservation instinct about you. I didn’t have very high hopes after seeing you this morning. And it’s not like you hurt my feelings or anything. Can’t say that I’d be all that thrilled either if I woke up in some asshole’s bed with no idea ‘bout how I got there.’

The kid still looked rather flushed. ‘Yes, well,’ he said, shifting slightly in his seat. ‘I’m sorry anyway.’ He then looked up at Logan, his blue eyes wide and beseeching. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’ he asked pleadingly, looking Logan right in the eye. ‘Please. I just – I want to know. I want to know _something_.’

Logan found himself nodding in spite of himself. ‘Yeah,’ he said slowly. ‘Yeah, I get that.’ He slowly sat back in his chair and watched the stranger spoon a little more soup into his mouth. ‘I’ll tell you what I know, if you want me to. It’s not much, but I’ll tell you.’ He reached up and scratched his chin. ‘I guess I just don’t know where to start.’

The stranger paused and cocked his head at him. ‘Maybe with your name?’ he asked gently, giving him a tentative smile.

Logan watched the corners of the boy’s mouth pull up. ‘Yeah,’ he said heavily. ‘Yeah, that sounds like a good place to start.’ He pulled his gaze up so that his eyes met the stranger’s. ‘My name is Logan,’ he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the stranger’s blue ones. ‘Logan Howlett. And this is where I live …’


	3. Chapter 3

They sat in front of the fire, not speaking but just sharing space, each of them mulling things over inside his own head. Logan had told the kid everything that had happened since he had found him that morning and the kid had tried his hardest to remember anything from before while eating his soup. Unfortunately for the both of them, he had drawn a complete blank. 

It wasn’t all disheartening, however. Following his description of the morning’s events, the kid seemed to have decided that he trusted Logan and was now fully relaxed in his presence, something that Logan found rather startling. Perhaps he hadn’t been so very wrong in his worries about the kid’s self-preservation instinct: the boy was _way_ too trusting. He was just lucky that Logan was _Logan_ , and not some crazy-ass lunatic who preyed on pretty, naïve little boys who got themselves lost on the side of a mountain.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ the stranger said then, somewhat unexpectedly, jolting Logan out of his reverie. ‘I must come from somewhere nearby. Somewhere not _too_ far off, at any rate. Don’t you think?’

Logan grunted but didn’t respond.

The boy continued. ‘Maybe I’m a hiker,’ he mused, gazing into the fire thoughtfully. ‘It makes sense if I was a hiker.’ He turned to look at Logan. ‘I mean – what _else_ would I be doing on a bloody _mountain_?’

Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t ask me,’ he said dryly. ‘I just _live_ here.’

The stranger waved a hand dismissively at Logan’s tone. ‘And there’s no one else up here?’ he persisted, leaning forward eagerly. ‘Apart from you, there’s no one else who lives here?’ He paused. ‘… No reason at all why I would come up here?’

Logan met the boy’s eyes for a moment and then sighed. ‘Kid, if anyone else lives up here then it’s the abominable fucking snowman,’ he said tiredly. ‘I’ve told you – I’m the only one up here and I’ve been the only one here for years.’ He paused and then levelled his gaze at the boy. ‘Now, I know what you’re thinking, what with there being no one else up here, but let me tell you something, kid – there’s still no way that you were up here for a goddamn _hike_.’ 

The stranger blinked at him, taken aback. ‘What?’ he asked, surprised. ‘Why do you say that?’

Logan raised his eyebrows and then deliberately gave the stranger a pointed once-over. ‘You’re asking me why I don’t think you were up here taking a hike?’ he asked flatly.

The stranger nodded, still looking confused.

Logan sighed, taking great pains to refrain from rolling his eyes. ‘I may be wrong,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Not being an expert on hiking and all, but from what little I know, you being on a hike? Well, it sure as hell doesn’t explain why you were out on a mountain all in night dressed like you were picking your date up for the fucking _prom_.’

The kid’s eyes immediately widened in realisation. And then he abruptly frowned and wrinkled his nose. ‘ _Prom_ ,’ he repeated, sounding slightly disgusted. He narrowed his eyes at Logan. ‘How old do you think I _am_?’

Logan shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ he said carelessly. ‘Eighteen, maybe? Twenty, max. Why?’ he gave the kid a sharp look. ‘Do you remember something?’

The kid was frowning. ‘N-no,’ he said slowly. ‘Not really. It’s just … I _feel_ older than that, you know? Like I’m a _lot_ older than that.’

‘Hmm,’ Logan eyed him thoughtfully. ‘And how old is that?’

The kid shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said helplessly. ‘Twenty-five? Somewhere between there and thirty? I don’t know.’ He turned to Logan and his gaze sharpened. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘How old are you?’

Logan let out a low chuckle. ‘Older than I look,’ he said, smirking a little. He raised an eyebrow at the stranger. ‘Older than _you_ , for sure.’

The stranger folded his arms across his chest. ‘That’s not an answer.’

‘Yeah, well it’s the only answer you’re going to get,’ Logan said easily. ‘Sorry, kid, but I still don’t know you well enough to tell you that.’

‘ _Yet_ ,’ the kid said, and a small smirk pulled at his own lips. Then he frowned. ‘You’re still calling me that,’ he said, in a tone that could almost be described as petulant. ‘ _Kid_. I know you don’t believe me, but I assure you, I am most certainly _not_ a _kid_. I would be able to tell.’

Logan shrugged again, unconcerned. ‘I need to call you _something_ ,’ he said reasonably. ‘And since you don’t know your own name …’

The frown that crossed the boy’s head at the reminder of this fact was darker than the previous expressions that he had worn. Logan almost regretted bringing it up.

‘You could just choose something, I guess,’ he said, in an attempt to lift the boy’s mood. ‘Just pick whatever name calls out to you. You never know, we might get lucky.’

But the boy shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, looking slightly troubled. ‘I don’t want to do that. It would be … odd. Choosing a new name … it would be like I was someone completely different and I – I want to be the same person that I was.’

Logan’s brow furrowed. ‘Even though you don’t remember him?’ he asked, his tone almost gentle.

‘ _Especially_ because I don’t remember him.’ The boy met Logan’s eyes earnestly, as if willing him to understand. ‘I – it’s difficult to explain, but I don’t want to lose whoever I was before this. I’m still that person, somewhere inside. I _have_ to be. But choosing a different name … well, if I did that, it would be like I was choosing to be a completely different person.’

Logan looked down at the floor, feeling slightly troubled. _James_ … a voice in his mind whispered traitorously, dredging up deeply-buried memories that hadn’t stirred inside him for almost a decade and were better left forgotten. 

Grimacing, he quickly pushed the memories down and rubbed tiredly at his face. He couldn’t say that he didn’t know what the kid was talking about. Not after everything that had happened to him – not after what he’d chosen to do. 

Names … names had power. Logan knew that much.

Swallowing, he straightened up and focused again on the boy. ‘Right,’ he said gruffly. ‘I get it. No new names.’

‘No new names,’ the boy repeated, his eyes fixed on something far away.

They were silent for a moment.

‘You know,’ Logan said after a moment, leaning back in his chair. ‘This does cause us a bit of a problem here, bub.’ He waited until the stranger had turned to face him before continuing. ‘If you don’t want to choose a name to call yourself and you don’t want me calling you “kid” all the time … well, then we’re pretty much out of options. Unless you’ve got some kinda magic way of picking your real name out of thin air … then, well, like I said. We’ve got ourselves a bit of a problem.’

The boy grimaced. ‘I know,’ he admitted, sighing. ‘And I understand how odd it is for you to not know my name … it’s even odder for _me_ , let me assure you. But it’s just …’ he hesitated. ‘I _must_ know it, mustn’t I? It’s my _name_. Who on earth forgets their own _name_?’

Logan grunted. ‘I’ll tell you who,’ he said firmly. ‘People who’ve had their heads cracked open, that’s who.’

‘But still,’ the kid persisted. ‘I ought to have _some_ idea, right? I can’t just … _not know_.’

Logan didn’t say anything.

‘A clue,’ the boy continued doggedly. ‘There must be a clue _somewhere_. A wallet, or – or something I might have carried. A name tag, perhaps.’

But Logan just shook his head. ‘Sorry, kid,’ he said gruffly. ‘I checked already. There wasn’t anything to find.’ 

The kid’s shoulders slumped at that.

Logan sighed. ‘I could go back up to the place I found you, if you like,’ he suggested, for some reason feeling slightly guilty for raining on the kid’s parade. ‘See if there’s anything left to find up there that might tell us who you are?’

The kid perked up at that. ‘Yes please,’ he said eagerly. ‘That would be fantastic.’

Logan let out a grunt. ‘Then that’s what I’ll do,’ he said with a firm nod. ‘I’ll go up there tomorrow, nice and early. That okay with you, bub?’

The boy nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said gratefully. ‘Thank you, Logan.’ The smile faded from his lips after a moment, however, and a forlorn expression once again crossed his face. ‘I just –’ he hesitated. ‘I just wish that I could know _something_ about myself now … that I could know my own _name_.’ He looked away, troubled. ‘I didn’t even have a phone with me. I didn’t have _anything_.’

Logan didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything that he could say to that. He fully understood the kid’s preoccupation with the fact that there was no clue as to who he was. It’d be preying on his mind as well, if he cracked his head open and forgot who he was. Not to mention the fact that there was no wallet or any other clues to tell them who the kid was. The kid didn’t even have any money with him. That was … odd, to say the least.

Logan glanced back over to the pile of the stranger’s clothes that he had set aside earlier. He had scoured every inch of the material in hopes of finding a receipt, or a name tag or _something_ , but his efforts had proved futile. There was nothing. No wallet, no tag, nothing.

He sighed and glanced back over at the kid who was perched on his seat, staring into the fire, looking lost. He was still clothed in Logan’s old cast-offs, and although they were now far too tight for Logan, they all but swam on stranger, the sleeves of the shirt coming to rest well over his fingertips.

The kid caught him staring at the over-long sleeves and he smiled. ‘They are a bit long, aren’t they?’ he asked with a small grin, shaking his arms to emphasise the way that the cloth flowed over his hands.

Something glinted on the kid’s wrist as the material swung back and forth.

Logan paused. ‘Kid,’ he said slowly. ‘What’s that?’

The stranger frowned and turned to look at him. ‘What’s what?’ he asked, puzzled.

‘That right there,’ Logan leaned forward. ‘On your wrist. The left one.’

The stranger continued to frown but he obediently moved his left wrist forward and pushed the sleeve back. 

‘Oh,’ he said, surprised. There, on his wrist, was a watch. A shiny, silver watch.

‘Thought I saw something,’ Logan grunted, studying the watch. He let out a sniff. ‘Looks expensive.’

‘It does, doesn’t it?’ the stranger said in awe, running a single finger down the watch face. ‘I didn’t notice that I had it on … I changed out of everything except for the watch.’

‘Hmm,’ Logan nodded. Then he sighed. ‘It doesn’t tell us anything more than what we already knew, though.’

‘No,’ the boy frowned, his fingertip pausing from where it had been drawing light circles around the face. ‘Only …’ he hesitated, and that caused Logan’s attention to perk up. ‘It seems to me …’

‘What?’ Logan asked, leaning forward intently. ‘What is it?’

The stranger glanced at Logan and bit his lip. Then, as if he couldn’t take it any longer, he reached out with his right hand and quickly began fumbling with the straps of the watch.

‘You taking it off now, bub?’ Logan asked cautiously, eyeing the kid a little uncertainly.

‘Yes,’ the kid replied shortly. ‘I don’t know why, but I get the feeling–’ the strap loosened and he quickly peeled the watch away from his wrist before abruptly flipping it over, ‘– that there’s something underneath.’

And there, sure enough, engraved on the back of the watch, were four words etched deep into the surface in a fine, elegant script.

‘Well, fuck me,’ Logan murmured, leaning forward curiously. With a glance at the boy, he looked down and began to read.

The message was a short one – only so much could be fitted onto the back of a watch, after all – but it was nevertheless very revealing:

  
_Charles_ , it read.

_Yours, always._

_Erik_


	4. Chapter 4

_Charles,_

_Yours, always._

_Erik_

Well, Logan thought with a huff, leaning back in his seat. Of all the darn things.

‘Charles,’ the stranger whispered, looking slightly shocked. He was still staring down at the watch, as if unable to draw his gaze away. ‘That’s – I’m Charles. My name is Charles.’

Logan glanced up at him, taking in his dazed expression. ‘You remember something there, kid?’ he asked gently.

The boy – _Charles_ – frowned and shook his head. ‘No, not exactly,’ he said, sounding hesitant. ‘But it – it _feels_ right. Like that’s the right name. Besides,’ he looked up at Logan and despite his confident air he still looked a little anxious. ‘It’s _my_ watch. It’s obviously addressed to _me_. Why else would I be wearing it?’

Logan shrugged. ‘No reason,’ he said cautiously. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’ 

They both fell silent. Then, after a moment, Logan let out a grunt and lifted an eyebrow. ‘So,’ he said, gruffly. ‘“ _Charles_ ”. That’s you then, is it?’

The kid bit his lip and slowly nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, lifting his chin and straightening up in his seat. ‘Yes, I suppose I am.’

Logan nodded. ‘Pleased to meet you then, _Charles_ ,’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair and giving him a lazy salute with one hand.

Charles tried not to smile at that, but he clearly couldn’t help himself. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said, his smile transforming into an all-out beam of sunlight as he held his hand out to shake, his delight at finally having a name visibly shining through. Then, because he seemed to need to say it again: ‘I’m Charles.’ He said the name slowly, as if savouring its taste on his tongue.

Logan eyed the outstretched hand in front of him a little warily. One glance at the bright smile on the kid’s face, however, and he found himself reluctantly holding out his own hand and then grasping Charles’s and shaking it. ‘It suits you,’ he found himself mumbling gruffly. ‘The name, I mean. Charles. You look like a Charles.’

‘I do?’ Charles seemed to be delighted by this fact. ‘Then that definitely settles it,’ he beamed. ‘I am Charles. Charles … somebody.’

Logan let out a snort. ‘That’s nice, Charles Somebody,’ he said dryly. ‘Now how about you sit your ass down properly on that chair before you roll out and bust that leg of yours even worse?’

Charles smiled sheepishly at that and forced himself to settle down in his seat. ‘Sorry,’ he said apologetically. ‘I suppose I’m just a little excited.’

‘No shit,’ Logan muttered, although his tone was mild. There was a pause. ‘You know, we probably ought to think about the rest of the message,’ he said neutrally when Charles didn’t say anything further. ‘On the watch.’ The kid immediately glanced over at him and Logan met his eyes. ‘Like who this Erik guy is, for instance ...’ He allowed the sentence to trail off as a somewhat distracted look crossed Charles’s face. 

‘Erik,’ Charles repeated, his eyes going distant as he said the name. ‘Erik …’

‘You recognise the name?’ Logan asked sharply.

Charles shook his head. ‘No,’ he said slowly. He looked back down at the watch and ran a finger over the writing. ‘But … this writing. It makes me feel …’

Logan glanced down at the words. _Yours, always_. ‘Good?’ he asked, when no other words arrived.

But Charles shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, his blue eyes clouding over. ‘Not good. _Sad_.’ He turned to face Logan. ‘It makes me feel sad.’

‘Hmm.’ Logan made a thoughtful noise. ‘So this Erik guy was a dick, huh?’

Charles turned around sharply. ‘What makes you say that?’ He sounded a mixture of curious and – oddly enough – defensive.

Logan shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ he said easily. ‘I just figure that any guy who makes you sad has gotta be a dick.’

Charles blinked, looking at him in surprise.

‘Generally speaking, that is,’ Logan said quickly. ‘I mean, he obviously did something to make you sad, right? So chances are, he was a dick. That’s what I meant.’

‘Right,’ Charles said dubiously. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, sighing. ‘It’s not … it’s not _anger_ that I feel – not exactly. It’s just sadness. Regret maybe.’ He paused, an odd look coming over his face. ‘… And you have no idea how strange it is to feel these things about someone that you have absolutely no memory of.’

‘No,’ Logan agreed, his gaze neutral. ‘I can’t say I do.’

Charles sighed and ran his hands over his face. ‘I just … I don’t know. I think – I think that he is someone that meant a great deal to me, but …’

Logan waited. ‘But …?’ he repeated when Charles didn’t immediately continue.

‘But,’ Charles took a deep breath, ‘For some reason I don’t think it’s likely that he will come looking for me.’ He shrugged at Logan’s uncomprehending look. ‘It’s a feeling I have,’ he said lamely.

Logan rolled his eyes. ‘Right,’ he said, his tone dry. ‘Because you can tell that about the guy despite having no absolutely clue who he is.’

Charles fidgeted. ‘I told you,’ he said, his voice quiet. ‘I have a feeling.’

‘A feeling, huh,’ Logan grunted, looking extremely unconvinced. ‘Course you do.’

Charles’s lips thinned. ‘You may laugh,’ he said coolly, his posture taking on a strange sort of stiffness. ‘But right now _feelings_ are pretty much all I have.’

Logan frowned, eyeing him closely but Charles seemed determined not to meet his eyes. ‘That’s not _entirely_ true, you know,’ Logan said after a moment, his tone casual. ‘I mean, you got that watch there,’ he indicated it with a jerk of his head. Charles didn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on the wall opposite. Logan waited for a beat before carrying on. ‘And, well,’ he continued, his tone still deliberately light. ‘I know it may not be all that much to you, but – for whatever it’s worth – well, you got me too, bub.’

Charles immediately glanced up at that, his wide blue eyes gazing into Logan’s as if startled. He didn’t speak for a moment, choosing to quietly study Logan instead. ‘… Right,’ he said at last, although his eyes still bored curiously into Logan’s. ‘Yes. I – thank you.’

Logan watched him uncertainly for a few seconds before letting out another grunt and turning back to the fire. 

Charles, however, continued to stare at him for a long moment. Then he too turned and, allowing himself to relax into the confines of the chair, joined Logan in watching the fire flicker and crackle. 

Several minutes later, however, the calm between them was interrupted by Charles letting out a very loud, very wide yawn.

‘Oh,’ Charles blinked blearily and belatedly reached up to cover his mouth with his hand. ‘I’m sorry.’

Logan gave him an unimpressed look. ‘You’re tired,’ he said flatly, watching Charles with narrowed eyes. ‘You’re tired and you’re injured and you just spent a whole damn night on the verge of giving yourself pneumonia.’

Charles just blinked at him.

Logan sighed. ‘Go and get some sleep, bub,’ he said tiredly, pushing himself up in his chair so he was sitting straight. ‘You need it.’

Charles gave him a weak smile. ‘I suppose I am still I little tired,’ he admitted, his mouth twisting wryly. 

‘Yeah, I figured,’ Logan grumbled. ‘Now get out of here and get yourself some sleep.’

‘I think I will,’ Charles agreed, placing his hands firmly on the arms of the chair and pushing himself up with a grimace, careful to keep his weight all on his good leg.

Logan watched him closely. ‘You need some help there, kid?’ he asked neutrally, watching as Charles hesitated.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Charles said immediately, sounding relieved. ‘If that’s all right.’

‘I wouldn’t have offered if it weren’t,’ Logan muttered, while levering himself out of the chair and coming to stand at Charles’s side. ‘Grab on, then,’ he said, holding himself at Charles’s side and reaching out with his arm. Charles obediently wrapped an arm around his neck and, with a bit of manoeuvring, they made their way over to the bedroom. 

‘There you go,’ Logan said gruffly when they reached, carefully depositing Charles on the bed and then straightening up and stretching out the kinks in his back. ‘Just give me a holler if you need anything – I’ll be in the other room if you need me, you hear?’

But Charles wasn’t listening. Instead, he was looking at Logan and frowning. ‘Hold on,’ he said, his brow puckered and his nose scrunched up like a toddler. ‘Where are you going to sleep?’

‘Huh?’ Logan rumbled, finding himself strangely distracted by Charles’s scrunched up nose.

‘Where are you going to sleep?’ Charles repeated patiently, watching Logan with an almost suspicious look in his eyes. ‘If I’m going to sleep here, and there’s only one bedroom … where are _you_ sleeping?’

Logan blinked. ‘Huh. Oh, right.’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t you worry kid,’ he grunted. ‘I won’t be hanging around here while you’re sleeping. I’ll be kipping out there, in front of the fire.’ He jerked his thumb back towards the door which they had entered from.

Charles’s frown deepened. ‘In front of the fire,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Do you have a spare bed there?’

Logan let out a low snort at that. ‘Did you see one there, bub?’ he asked dryly.

Charles looked confused. ‘A sleeping bag, then?’ he tried, looking at Logan almost anxiously.

Logan shook his head. ‘Nah,’ he said, waving his hand dismissively. ‘I don’t have any of that stuff. Don’t you worry about me, bub. I’ll be fine.’

‘On the floor,’ Charles said flatly, staring at Logan. ‘You’re planning on sleeping on the floor.’

Logan shrugged. ‘I’ve done worse,’ he said truthfully. ‘And it ain’t like I don’t have any spare blankets around.’

‘You’re going to sleep on the floor,’ Charles said again, clearly not listening. He shook his head, looking mildly distressed. ‘Logan, that’s not – I can’t let you do that.’

‘Oh yes you can,’ Logan growled immediately, leaning forward and scowling down at Charles. ‘You’ve got yourself a busted head and your ankle ain’t much better. You’re taking the bed.’

‘Well there’s no reason why we can’t share,’ Charles protested, looking at Logan with entreaty in his eyes.

Logan blinked at that, startled. ‘Huh?’ he asked, unsure if he had heard right.

‘We can share the bed,’ Charles repeated, clearly warming up to the idea. ‘There’s no reason why we shouldn’t. It is your bed, after all. And I,’ he hesitated slightly before ploughing on determinedly. ‘I trust you.’ He met Logan’s eyes fearlessly.

Logan stared at him for a moment. ‘You’re an idiot,’ he said flatly before letting out a sigh. ‘Goddamn idiot, that’s what you are,’ he grumbled, but he could feel his resistance give way. He hadn’t been looking forward to sleeping on the rough wooden floor that night and hey, if the kid was offering … ‘But if you’re sure …’

‘I am,’ Charles said firmly, lifting his chin up as if he thought that would make it more convincing. ‘Very sure.’

Logan sighed. ‘Then I guess we’re sharing the bed,’ he said resignedly.

Charles blinked and then gave a determined nod. ‘Good,’ he said, still keeping his chin in the air. ‘That’s … good.’ 

Logan watched him for a moment and then let out a huff. ‘Give me a minute,’ he muttered, before going over to a solid, wooden cupboard and pulling out a pair of old sleep-pants. He then hesitated for a moment before grumbling to himself and walking out of the room, his fingers already going to the buttons of his shirt. Two minutes later he returned, shirtless, his old clothes thrown carelessly over his arm. He took a moment to deposit them on a nearby surface before turning to face the bed, where Charles was eyeing him warily.

Logan watched him for a moment and then grunted. ‘You need me to put a shirt on?’ he asked gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. Now that he was standing here he wasn’t quite sure how to act – it had been a while since he had shared a bed with anyone. It had been even longer since the bed-sharing had been completely platonic.

Charles shook his head. ‘No, you’re fine,’ he said, his eyes hovering over Logan’s bare chest before he dragged them away. ‘I was just worried that you would feel cold during the night.’

‘Nah,’ Logan shook his head and approached the bed, pulling the sheet down and sliding in between the covers, doing his best to ignore the feeling of Charles at his side. ‘I’m used to it. Besides,’ he added, smirking a little. ‘Most of the time I don’t even wear pants in bed.’

Charles’s cheeks went slightly pink. ‘Oh,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘That’s … right.’

Logan made to pull back the covers and then hesitated. ‘You can back out, if you ain’t comfortable,’ he said quietly, watching as Charles eyed him warily. ‘Just tell me to go and I’ll get out of here, no problem.’

That seemed to drive all the uncertainty from Charles’s expression and he determinedly grabbed hold of the bed-sheets, meeting Logan’s gaze all the while, before wriggling down and pulling the covers up around himself.

Logan let out a huff. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said, shaking his head, before reaching out to turn off the nearest lamp. When he was sure that Charles was fully settled in, he pressed the switch and turned it off, throwing the both of them into darkness. 

They lay in silence for a while, both of them holding themselves stiffly. After a few minutes had passed, Logan turned on his side and glanced through the dark at the shadowy figure at his side. ‘You awake?’ he grunted, his voice low.

‘Yes,’ Charles replied.

‘Then stop,’ Logan grumbled, pulling the sheets tighter over himself. ‘And get some goddamn sleep.’

Charles didn’t say anything but after a moment Logan felt the tension bleed out of the body next to him and he knew that Charles had finally relaxed.

His eyelids feeling strangely heavy, Logan closed his eyes and shifted onto his back, feeling unconsciousness claw at him. Just before sleep claimed him, however, he heard a soft whisper to his side, reaching him just before his mind switched off.

‘Goodnight, Logan.’

And then he was fast asleep, and didn’t know anything further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because the bed-sharing trope will never get old :)
> 
> Also, I finally joined tumblr, so please do drop by and say hello if you feel like it! (I'm at lachatblanche.tumblr.com :)


	5. Chapter 5

When Logan woke up the next morning, he found himself feeling oddly comfortable and well-rested. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t usually wake up feeling those things; it was merely that today there seemed to be something different.

It took him a moment to hit upon what it was but when he did, all that comfort went straight out of the window.

His eyes flew open.

‘Hello.’

Charles was lying there next to him, turned on his side so that he was fully facing Logan, his eyes very blue and very clear and staring at Logan unblinkingly. 

Logan suppressed a groan and contented himself with shutting his eyes tightly for a few moments. He opened his eyes again a minute later, only to see that Charles was still in the same position as before and he was still staring at him, as calm and unselfconscious as you please.

‘See anything you like?’ Logan grunted, feeling a little out of sorts. Having someone observe him while he slept made him feel exceedingly uncomfortable, never mind that they were as seemingly harmless as Charles was. 

Charles didn’t say anything. Instead, his eyes still fixed on Logan’s face, he reached out with his left hand – the one he wasn’t currently lying on – and, his expression filled with a strange sort of concentration, gently brushed his fingers against Logan’s forehead.

Logan held himself very still.

‘You’re frowning,’ Charles said quietly, his eyes fixed on the spot that he had just touched. ‘You woke up and you started frowning. You weren’t frowning when you were asleep.’

‘Is that right?’ Logan mumbled, not knowing what else to say to that.

‘You looked peaceful,’ Charles said softly. He watched Logan pensively. ‘Like you were … happy.’

Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’ he said dryly. ‘You’re saying I don’t look happy now?’

Charles’s blinked and then his mouth twitched. ‘Well … not particularly,’ he said, although there was a teasing note to his voice. ‘But I suppose it can’t be helped if you’re not a morning person.’

Logan let out a grunt. ‘Guess not,’ he said.

The teasing light left Charles’s eyes and watched Logan with a thoughtful look. ‘Do you dream, Logan?’ he asked softly.

Logan shifted, feeling a slightly uncomfortable. ‘Can’t say I do,’ he said stiffly. It wasn’t a _complete_ lie. He hadn’t been dreaming last night, after all.

‘Hmm,’ Charles’s face was unreadable.

‘Why?’ Logan asked suddenly, a thought occurring to him. ‘Do – did _you_ dream last night?’

Charles bit his lip. ‘N…o,’ he said unconvincingly, before seeming to realise how little conviction his voice had held and smiling ruefully at Logan. ‘Maybe a little.’ He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t really a dream, though … It was more of a – a feeling.’

‘A feeling,’ Logan repeated.

Charles nodded slowly. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Like a – a memory.’

‘What was it?’ Logan asked, trying not to sound too interested.

Charles bit his lip at that. He glanced up at Logan and gave him a small, wry smile. ‘I was in bed,’ he said slowly, his eyes never leaving Logan. ‘And I had someone next to me, asleep.’ He paused. ‘I think it was … Erik.’

Logan suddenly felt slightly awkward. ‘Huh,’ he said, reaching up to scratch his neck. He hesitated. ‘And you – you’re sure this was a memory? It wasn’t – it wasn’t just … _us_?’

Charles gave him a small smile. ‘In the dream he had an arm around me,’ he said quietly. ‘Unless you put your arm around me at some point during the night, I think it’s safe to say that it was a memory. A dream-memory, at any rate.’

Logan let out a grunt, unconsciously drawing his arms in closer to his body. ‘Was that all?’ he asked, trying to change the subject.

Charles nodded slowly. ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said, sighing. He rubbed at his face. ‘Of course it could all just be a dream brought on by the watch and from sleeping next to another person, but I’d like to think that it’s a memory.’ He glanced up at Logan. ‘Maybe then I can hope that I’ll get _all_ my memories back at some point.’

‘You’ll get them back,’ Logan said gruffly. ‘It’ll happen. Sooner or later.’

‘Sooner, if you don’t mind,’ Charles said, with a touch of humour in his voice.

Logan watched him for a moment. Then he sighed and pushed himself up from the bed.

Charles blinked and watched him in surprise. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, as if he didn’t think anything of the fact that they had just been lying there together on the bed despite the both of them being wide awake.

Logan got to his feet and looked down at him. ‘You said you wanted to remember things,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I thought I’d help you along.’ He sighed at Charles’s blank expression. ‘I said I’d go up and retrace your steps today, didn’t I? Well that’s what I’m going to do.’

‘Oh.’ Charles blinked and then slowly pushed himself up in the bed, taking care not to jar his leg too badly. ‘I’d quite forgotten that. I – thank you.’

Logan grunted. ‘Not just doing this for your sake, bub,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll be heading up there anyway – this place needs more firewood.’ He gave Charles a pointed look. ‘Shoulda done it yesterday but it seems to have slipped my mind.’

Charles grimaced at that. ‘Sorry,’ he said ruefully. ‘Although I am glad that you were out there. God knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been.’

‘Yeah,’ Logan said grimly, knowing quite well what would have happened if Charles had been left out on his own with a concussion for two nights in a row on top of a freezing cold mountain. ‘Who knows.’

*****

Half an hour later, Charles was comfortably settled in the main room of the cabin while Logan pulled on his coat and prepared to go outside. Glancing over at Charles, Logan frowned and then quickly looked away. He couldn’t help feeling rather self-conscious, now that Charles was awake and alert. He was suddenly aware that there was not much in the way of entertainment in his cabin and, now that he was departing for the forest, Charles would have to spend the next few hours finding some way to entertain himself in a sparse environment. The options were severely limited; injured as he was, Charles wouldn’t be able to move about and would need to confine himself to one location in the lodge.

Logan hesitated for a moment. Then sighed and shook his head. ‘Gimme a minute,’ he muttered, before quickly turning away and heading back to his bedroom. He hovered at the threshold for a moment before determinedly moving forward and approaching the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Pulling the doors open, he rummaged around the floor of the wardrobe for a minute before pulling out a shoebox with a grunt of satisfaction. Straightening up, he then turned and walked back to the main room, watched by a pleasantly curious Charles.

‘Here,’ Logan grunted, handing the box over in a deliberately careless manner. ‘Thought you might like this.’

‘A pair of shoes?’ Charles asked blankly, eyeing the shoebox with curiosity before reaching out and taking it with one arm. His hand immediately dipped at the weight and he quickly brought up his other hand to steady it. ‘Ah,’ he corrected himself. ‘Not shoes, then.’

‘Don’t think nothing of mine would fit you anyway, bub,’ Logan said gruffly. He nodded towards the box. ‘Open it.’

Charles gave him an assessing glance but then redirected his attention back to the box. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted his hands and, with the box nestled safely on his lap, removed the lid.

The box was full of books.

‘Thought you might like something to read while I was out,’ Logan said casually, staring deliberately at the wall opposite. ‘Since there’s nothing else to do around here.’ He glanced over at where Charles was still looking down at the books. ‘It’s nothing highbrow,’ he said gruffly, scowling down at his feet. ‘Just a couple o’ westerns. Thought you might like to do something while I was out.’

‘Oh!’ Charles’s eyes were round. ‘Logan this is – thank you!’

‘Yeah yeah,’ Logan muttered. ‘S’only a couple of books. No need to get all sentimental about it.’

Charles’s expression gentled into something softer. ‘Right,’ he said, his eyes crinkling slightly despite the solemn expression on his face. ‘Of course.’

‘Hm,’ Logan grunted. He turned towards the door. ‘I’ll be heading out, then.’

Charles bit his lip and nodded. 

Logan found himself hesitating. ‘You need anything?’ he asked gruffly, hovering on the spot almost awkwardly. 

Charles shook his head. ‘No, thank you,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m fine. More than fine, really.’ He held up one of the books from the box. ‘Thanks for these, Logan – I really do appreciate it.’

‘Yeah, I got that,’ Logan said, scowling down at the floor. ‘I’ll be going now.’ He moved to the door but was arrested by Charles’s voice.

‘You won’t be gone too long?’ Charles’s voice was measured but there was nevertheless a strange vulnerability to the question that stirred up an odd feeling in Logan’s stomach.

He tried to ignore the niggling sensation as he turned back around. ‘Nah,’ he replied, shaking his head and casually reaching up to scratch at his chest. ‘I’ll be gone for most of the morning, but I should be back before it gets dark.’

‘Oh,’ Charles said in a small voice. ‘Okay then.’

Logan rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t need to cry over it,’ he said, folding his arms over his chest. ‘I ain’t just gonna leave you here, jesus. I’m hardly going to disappear from my own damn house now, am I?’

Charles’s cheeks went bright red. ‘I wasn’t _crying_!’ he protested, looking a mixture of embarrassed and indignant. It was a good look on him. ‘I hardly think – oh just _go_!’

Logan let out a huff of laughter. ‘Sure thing, boss man,’ he drawled, flicking Charles a salute before walking out through the door of the cabin, smirk still fixed firmly onto his face.

Maybe having someone around wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was just beginning to set by the time that Logan arrived back at the house. It was still relatively bright and cheerful outside, so he wasn’t overly concerned about having left Charles alone for so long: he had, after all, returned exactly when he’d said he would - before dark.

He nevertheless made an effort to move swiftly as he made his way down the mountain, conscious that he now had a guest to think of. It couldn’t be much fun, he reasoned, being stuck on your own in a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere with a bum ankle. He himself would have found the situation horribly frustrating. He didn’t think that Charles was the type to complain – he had been nothing but patience and gratitude so far – but, even so, Logan was prepared to be met with a degree of weariness and irritation upon his return. 

The wide smile and unfeigned delight he received instead were something of a surprise to him.

‘You’re back!’ Charles’s voice was a pleasant mix of warmth and eagerness, and the book he had been reading was tipped across his lap as if abruptly cast aside in the face of Logan's return.

Logan, caught off-guard by this reception, paused for a moment in the doorway, rather uncertain what to make of this welcome. Then, recovering, he let out a grunt and moved inside. ‘Looks like it,’ he said gruffly, shutting the cabin door behind him. The kid had been stuck indoors all day with only a crummy book to read, he told himself as he made his way into the house; it was perfectly reasonable that he would look forward to Logan’s return.

Charles was watching him closely. ‘Is it very cold out?’ he asked, his eyes fixed on the way Logan’s jacket was pulled tightly across his chest, his tone sympathetic.

Logan’s eyebrows rose at the solicitous question. ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ he said gruffly, turning away and taking off his coat. ‘And the whole wood-chopping thing helped, besides,’ he added, shrugging.

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Charles licked his lips unconsciously, his eyes lingering momentarily on Logan’s arms. ‘You must have … worked up quite the sweat.’

Logan cocked an eyebrow at that and Charles, apparently realising what he had just said, immediately flushed a bright, becoming pink.

‘I meant, of course, that you would probably like a bath,’ he said hurriedly, avoiding Logan’s eyes. ‘After all that – er – sweating.’

‘Of course,’ Logan said dryly, feeling amused almost in spite of himself.

‘I would of course offer to run one for you …’ Charles said apologetically before gesturing to his leg. 

Logan let out a grunt. ‘Never had another man run me a bath before,’ he said, shrugging. ‘No reason for it to start now.’

‘Yes, quite,’ Charles said quickly. He still looked rather pink around the cheeks.

‘Hmm,’ Logan regarded him for a moment. ‘You okay then?’ he asked a little stiffly, after a brief silence. ‘You hungry? Or do you need to take care of any … business?’

Charles blinked in surprise before shaking his head. ‘No thank you,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m quite alright.’

Still Logan hesitated. ‘And – the book?’ he asked uncomfortably. ‘Is it … You bored yet?’

Charles’s smile became even warmer. ‘No,’ he said with a fond look. ‘No, it’s perfectly fine. I’m enjoying it very much.’

‘Hmm,’ Logan took that in. Then he nodded and jerked his head towards the bathroom. ‘I’m gonna …’

‘Of course,’ Charles smiled politely, before adding with a trace of humour, ‘I’ll be right here.’

Logan let out a huff of amusement. ‘Good to know,’ he said, before giving Charles a nod and moving to the bathroom, making sure to shut the door close behind him.

*****

The second evening passed much as it had the first. Logan made dinner, watched by a curious Charles, and the two of them then ate in silence before eventually settling into a conversation that started off awkward – what with Logan being reticent by nature and Charles not having a past that he could recall or draw memories from – but which soon grew easier and more comfortable as the time passed.

‘Do you live here all year round?’ Charles asked curiously, when they had finished their supper and were both sat comfortably in front of the fire. Logan had dug out an old woollen blanket and had draped it over him, so that Charles now looked very cosy and comfortable in his chair. ‘Or just at certain times of the year?’

Logan let out a snort at that. ‘What, you think I just come up here for the winter?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow at Charles. ‘Here where there’s nothing and no one around so that I can – what? Build a snowman?’

‘I don’t know,’ Charles replied, straight-faced. ‘Do you take your snowman-building very seriously?’

Logan looked surprised at that before he let out a low chuckle. ‘You know something, Chuck,’ he said. ‘You’re alright. And yeah – I live here. All the time. No summer houses for me.’

‘Why?’ Charles asked, cocking his head. ‘Why do you stay here, I mean?’

'What’s it to you?’ Logan grunted.

Charles shrugged. ‘I’m just trying to understand the person who took me in,’ he said lightly.

Logan considered this. ‘Can’t say that that’s not sensible,’ he admitted. He gave Charles a sideways look. ‘Guess not all your brains got scrambled, huh?’

‘Apparently not,’ Charles smiled. ‘Now, are you going to answer me?’

Logan hesitated. ‘Not right now,’ he said at last.

Charles frowned. ‘Why not?’ he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Logan scowled. ‘Christ Chuck,’ he growled, shaking his head. ‘We only just met. I ain’t going to be spilling my guts so soon, you get me?’

‘So … that means that at some point you _will_ tell me?’ Charles asked, unable to hide a grin.

‘Christ,’ Logan muttered, shaking his head. ‘Unbelievable.’ He glanced over at Charles and rolled his eyes when he saw his expectant expression. ‘Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever. I’ll tell you what you want to know if and when I feel like it.’

Charles beamed at him. ‘Splendid,’ he said, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. ‘And, just so you know, if I knew anything at all about myself then I would tell you anything you wanted to know in return.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ Logan muttered. ‘For all you know, kid, you could be a goddamn serial killer on the run.’

Charles, for some reason, actually looked intrigued by this possibility. ‘Really?’ he asked, actually pausing to consider it. ‘You really think I could be?’

Logan shrugged. ‘Anything’s possible,’ he said, unconcerned, although he secretly felt that if Charles was a serial killer then he’d eat his own left arm.

‘Hmm,’ Charles mulled it over. ‘I suppose it _would_ go some way to explaining what I’m doing here on this mountain, far away from everyone.’

‘Yeah,’ Logan agreed. ‘But then so would a lot of things.’

‘I expect it _would_ be a bit awkward if I ended up being a serial killer,’ Charles admitted. ‘I wouldn’t really be the ideal houseguest, would I?’

‘I’ve had worse,’ Logan shrugged. ‘You start tellin’ me if you get any murderous urges, mind.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Charles said airily, smiling.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence.

‘You mustn’t like people very much,’ Charles said abruptly.

Logan’s head jerked up. He stared at Charles, feeling strangely tense. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked gruffly, feeling slightly disconcerted.

Charles shrugged. ‘Well,’ he said slowly. ‘The very fact that you live here. On the side of a mountain in the middle of nowhere.’

‘What can I say,’ Logan said neutrally. ‘I like a good view.’

‘You don’t need to come this far just for a good view,’ Charles said gently. ‘No,’ his tone turned thoughtful, ‘the only reason you come out to a place like this is to get away.’

‘Get away from what exactly?’ Logan asked, scowling.

Charles shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘People, I suppose. Or—’ he paused. ‘Or memories …’

‘Watch it kid,’ Logan said dryly. ‘Any more of that and I’m gonna start thinking that you’re some sort of shrink.’

Charles perked up at that. ‘Oh!’ he said, his eyes round. ‘Do you really think so?’

Logan shrugged. ‘It’s more likely than the serial killer theory,’ he said easily.

‘Dr. Charles …’ Charles rolled the title around in his mouth, frowning a little. ‘Actually, that sounds rather … right.’

Logan looked up. ‘You a doctor then, Chuck?’ he asked, interested.

‘I don’t know,’ Charles replied, sounding somewhat dubious. ‘I don’t think I know how to heal someone, if that’s what you’re asking. I barely knew what to do when I twisted my own ankle.’

Logan shrugged. ‘So you ain’t a medical doctor,’ he said, unconcerned. ‘You’re just one of those brainy ones with the title.’ He shrugged again. ‘Fits well enough to me.’

Charles seemed amused by that. ‘You’re hardly qualified to say that,’ he said with a smile. ‘Even _I’m_ not overly-qualified to say it,’ he added, a trifle ruefully.

‘What can I say,’ Logan said, unconcerned. ‘I’ve got good instincts.’

Charles cocked his head at that. ‘And you’re instincts are telling you …?’

Logan eyed him for a moment. ‘That you’re not a serial killer,’ he said at last, shrugging nonchalantly and turning back to the fire.

Charles’s smile widened. ‘Well then,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I suppose that I will just have to take your word for it.’

‘You do that,’ Logan agreed. ‘Everything always goes a whole lot easier when people actually listen to me.’

*****

Going to bed that night was only marginally less awkward than it had been the day before. Logan hovered awkwardly while Charles settled down in bed, feeling distinctly annoyed with himself for feeling so unsure and ill at ease in his own damn room. He had no idea if the day before had been a one-off or not; either way, he was determined to face the night with equanimity – which is to say, he was determined to feel neither relief nor disappointment, whatever Charles decided ought to happen.

Only Charles didn’t seem to have any opinion whatsoever. Once he had settled in, he took a deep breath and smiled, shutting his eyes briefly as he lay back against the pillow. His thoughts, it appeared, were on something altogether more pleasant than the current awkwardness of their situation.

Logan looked at him, and allowed himself to wait for a single beat before moving towards the door. 

‘G’night then,’ he said gruffly, placing his hand on the handle and preparing to leave.

Charles’s eyes suddenly flew open and Logan saw what appeared to be an expression of dismay cross his face.

‘Are you going?’ he asked, looking unabashedly disappointed by the news.

Logan cocked an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you want me to?’

Charles frowned. ‘Well – no,’ he said, his brow furrowed, looking for all the world like he didn’t see how odd it was that he wanted a strange man to crawl into bed with him two nights in a row. ‘I want – I thought … I thought that we had been through all this just yesterday. Surely you aren’t going to make me repeat myself, are you?’

‘Well I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,’ Logan drawled, trying not to show any signs of relief at once again escaping the cold hard floor for another night.

‘Nonsense,’ Charles said briskly, struggling up and pulling down the sheets next to him. ‘We managed perfectly well last night. There’s no reason why we can’t do it again.’

Logan wasn’t one for coyness, especially since they had already been through all that the night before. He simply shrugged and, moving forward, clambered into the bed beside Charles.

‘G’night then, Chuck,’ Logan mumbled as he pulled the bed sheets up around him.

There was a small gust of air against his shoulder as Charles let out a soft, contented sigh behind him. ‘Goodnight, Logan,’ he said quietly. ‘Sweet dreams.’

Logan hesitated. ‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly, after a minute. ‘Sweet dreams, Chuck.’

He closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

The next few days passed by in much the same manner. Logan would wake up to the sight of Charles lying beside him (thankfully Charles was usually still asleep when Logan awoke, allowing him to creep out of bed without any forced and awkward interaction) and, after a quick wash, he would then set about making breakfast for the two of them. If he was lucky, he could serve breakfast in bed before Charles clambered out of it and damaged his leg any further, but most of the time Charles managed to beat him to it and hobbled into the kitchen cheerfully before Logan could do so much as offer him a hand. 

After breakfast, Logan would then go outside – ostensibly to hunt or chop wood or perform other necessary task – but, if he was honest with himself, more for the solitude that being outdoors would allow him. 

It wasn’t that Charles was a burden – far from it, Logan actually found himself growing used to the company – but that did not detract from the fact that Logan was unused to being around someone for so long. He had lived on his own for a long time, deliberately avoiding the company of others, and he could not help but find it strange that he now had to share that solitude with someone else. That he liked Charles was irrelevant; he needed some time by himself and, as this was something that he could not get within his house, he decided to seek it elsewhere. 

It was better this way, he figured. This way he wouldn’t get antsy around Charles and start feeling restless whenever he remembered all over again that he and Charles were all but living on top of each other in a tiny little cabin on the top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere.

Besides, as the days passed and the weather became colder and bleaker, leaving the cabin became a necessity rather than a preference. Logan watched the clouds with grim anxiety every day, carefully assessing each cold breath of the air that he inhaled, fully aware that the weather could turn at any time. Winters on the mountain were rough, and they often came suddenly. Logan was used to them by now, but he was well aware that he had only ever had experience of solitary winters, and, should Charles’s ankle not heal before winter set in, then the two of them would be stuck alone on the mountain for the rest of the season. Logan therefore made use of his time out of the house, determinedly chopping down more wood, hunting, and building up his supplies, all the while watching Charles grimly and hoping that his ankle would mend soon.

While still tender, Charles’s ankle was slowly getting better over time. Despite the fact that he was still unable to remember anything of what had happened prior to being found alone on a mountaintop, Charles always remained in the highest of spirits, something that Logan found more than a little bemusing. What was more surprising, however, was the fact that these high spirits did not bother Logan in the least, as he had expected they might do – instead, Logan found himself rather soothed by Charles’s moods, and, as time passed, he slowly felt himself begin to relax more and more around Charles. Certainly, returning home at the end of a long day to be greeted by a warm, genuine smile was more comforting than it had any right to be.

One day, when Logan judged Charles’s ankle to be stronger, he suggested the idea of going for a walk around the cabin. Charles had, unsurprisingly, been delighted by the suggestion.

‘You think I could?’ he asked, looking eager.

Logan shrugged. ‘Don’t see why not,’ he said gruffly. ‘Best you get used to putting a little weight on it now it ain’t wrenched so bad. See how much you can take.’

Charles nodded, biting his lip in determination. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said.

Logan had thoughtfully loaned Charles an old coat of his before they set out; Charles had thanked him for it before he had put it on, and had then thanked him once again, this time more fervently, when he had actually stepped outside and realised just how cold it was. Luckily, the area around them was dry and firm, and although the ground was hard, Charles was unlikely to slip over on the mud and grass.

Things had nevertheless been a little awkward at first. Outside of the cabin, Charles had only Logan to lean on for support, and he was still very wary of setting much pressure down on his foot. 

‘Set it down,’ Logan had advised patiently. ‘I’ll be right here, Chuck, there’s no need to worry about fallin’. I got you.’

‘My brain knows that,’ Charles grimaced, unconsciously tightening his grip on Logan’s arm. ‘But unfortunately my muscles don’t.’ He paused, biting his lip as he surveyed the ground in front of him. Then, taking a deep breath, he set his jaw. ‘Right,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m going to move.’ With only the briefest flicker of hesitation, and his fingers digging tightly into Logan’s arm, he slowly reached out with his foot, allowing it to hover an inch off the ground. He wobbled slightly.

‘Steady, now,’ Logan muttered, his eyes fixed on Charles’s legs. 

Charles nodded. Then he let go of Logan’s arm and set his foot down.

‘Steady!’ Logan growled, reaching out anxiously as Charles swayed on the spot, his face going white even though he did not make a sound. ‘You okay there, Chuck? You need a hand?’

Charles’s face was still pale but he shook his head. ‘I’m okay,’ he said, his voice admirably level. ‘I can take it.’

‘I don’t—’

‘I said _I can take it_ ,’ Charles snapped. Then he blinked and grimaced. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, immediately contrite. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you, Logan. I think the pain is getting to me a little, that’s all. I honestly can take it though.’

‘Yeah, I get that,’ Logan said grimly, completely ignoring Charles’s small burst of temper. ‘But it’s not a matter of _can_ , bub. If it hurts too bad then the fact is you shouldn’t be doing it.’

‘No, no, I’m _fine_ ,’ Charles said firmly. ‘I can do this.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘I’m sure.’

Logan sighed. ‘Then knock yourself out,’ he said, resigned. ‘Only not literally, you get me?’

Charles grinned at that, his look of determination morphing into one of mirth. ‘I’ll try my best,’ he said, smiling, before slowly lowering his arms to his sides. Then, with a lift of his chin, he slowly started hobbling forward. 

Logan frowned and watched him narrowly, ready to surge forward if Charles showed any indication of toppling over.

He didn’t. 

Charles took a few more steps forward, visibly gritting his teeth as he did so. Logan followed him closely, his eyes glued to Charles’s expression. When a spasm crossed his face, Logan immediately put out a hand and gripped his shoulder.

‘That’s enough for today,’ he said gruffly. 

‘I can go on,’ Charles protested, but Logan detected an edge of relief in his tone. 

‘Sure you can,’ Logan agreed, steering him around even as he spoke. ‘But we don’t want to force this, Chuck. No point in pushing yourself today if you won’t be able to get back up tomorrow.’

‘I suppose,’ Charles grumbled, but he readily held onto Logan as he hobbled back to the cabin.

‘Don’t worry,’ Logan said as he helped Charles through the door before following him in. ‘We’ll go again tomorrow.’

They did. Logan kept a watchful eye as Charles stretched his legs and moved about gingerly, making sure to call him back before he over-exerted himself. They did this again and again over the next few days, staying out longer each time. Charles always made a token protest when he was called to stop but after that he always returned gratefully to the support of Logan’s arms, although every day he needed to lean on him a little less.

By the end of the week Logan had high hopes that, in a few days, he would finally be able to take Charles down to the foot of the mountain and leave him in the appropriate – and much more capable – hands of the local authorities. With that his duty would be done and, while he would remember Charles with a degree of fondness, he would be able to get on with his life just as he had always done.

It was, after all, what he had intended to do from the first. 

With this resolution in mind, Logan spent the next few days getting Charles’s ankle slowly back to strength. Charles, knowing full well that their time together was coming to an end, also tried his best to ensure that he was fit enough to make the journey down the mountain. 

Eventually, both he and Logan were satisfied with his progress. 

‘Looks good as new now, Chuck,’ Logan said, sounding pleased. ‘I’d say you’re all healed up.’

‘You think so?’ Charles asked eagerly, flexing his ankle and looking down at it with something like pride.

Logan shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Well I wouldn’t go running any marathons,’ he said dryly, ‘but you should be well enough to make the trek down now, I’d say.’

‘Good,’ Charles said, looking up with a smile. ‘I think so too.’ He then let out a small laugh. ‘You know, I honestly can’t tell you how much of relief it is not to have to limp and hobble about anymore.’ He shook his head admiringly. ‘I really don’t know how you manage it, Logan – living up here all on your own. What happens when you hurt yourself?’

Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t,’ he said wryly. ‘Getting hurt isn’t really an option for me, bub.’ He looked around at the desolate landscape. ‘Hurting yourself out here could be a death sentence. Especially in winter.’

Charles shivered at that, and Logan knew that it wasn’t just from the cold. ‘I can imagine,’ he said quietly. He slowly moved over towards Logan so that their shoulders brushed together. ‘And I can never thank you enough for finding me out there, Logan – and for looking after me. You’ve been … you’ve done more than anyone could have asked for.’

Logan rubbed at his face, feeling suddenly awkward. ‘Yeah, well,’ he mumbled. ‘It wasn’t any trouble, really.’

‘I’ll be out of your hair soon,’ Charles reassured him, his tone strangely bright. ‘You just have to bear with me tonight and then tomorrow you will be a free man again.’

Logan rolled his eyes. ‘You’re making this a bigger deal than it is,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You’re not _that_ much of a pain in the ass, Chuck.’

‘Hey!’ Charles protested, fighting a smile.

Logan smirked. ‘Come on,’ he said, gesturing Charles forward and starting the walk back up to the cabin. ‘I’ll get some dinner on and then I’ll break open a bottle of something I’ve been saving up. You’ll like this, Chuck, classy guy like you – it’s the good stuff. Cost me a bundle.’

Charles’s expression brightened at that and so together they made their way back to the cabin for what Logan knew would be the last time.

A feeling oddly like regret lodged itself in his chest and rested there for the rest of the night, and Logan only made a half-hearted attempt to be rid of it. Everyone felt fonder of their guests right before they left, he reasoned later as he crawled into bed next to Charles after wishing him goodnight. Sending Charles away was the right thing, he was certain of it, both for Charles and for himself. There was no use getting sentimental about these things. No, the best thing was for Logan to see Charles safely in the hands of those better suited to reuniting missing persons with their families and, that done, Logan could wash his hands of this business once and for all and get back to preparing for the long, cold winter ahead. 

His resolve strengthened, Logan finally allowed himself to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

Outside, the first flake of winter’s snow fell gently to the ground.


	8. Chapter 8

Logan woke up the next morning to a cold chill against his back, the frigid air shaking him out of his strangely pleasant dreams and making him blink muzzily until he got his bearings. His front was warm and snug – no doubt because Charles had plastered himself to his side, fairly radiating heat as he coiled around him – but his back was chilled, the contrast making for a thoroughly uncomfortable wake up call. He considered reaching out and tugging the blankets closer around him but his limbs didn’t seem to want to cooperate, warm and cosy as they were when wrapped around … wrapped around …

Logan opened his eyes.

Ever since Charles had arrived, Logan had slowly become used to waking up to the feeling of Charles pressed up against him. They always started off firmly on either side of the bed but by morning Charles had always somehow crossed over the line and crawled into Logan’s space, all but clinging to him in his sleep, his hands circled around Logan’s torso. 

Until today that clinginess had always been one-sided. 

Logan took a moment to process the way his arms were twined around Charles’s chest and he let out a sigh. Trying not to read too much into this development, he slowly shifted about and started attempting to carefully extricate himself from the embrace. By itself, the manoeuvring wouldn’t have been too problematic; unfortunately, Logan wanted to do it without waking Charles, which made things a great deal more complicated. 

After a few minutes with no progress he finally gave it up, grimacing. It was no use. They were both too tangled up in each other and any movement on Logan’s part would have Charles waking in seconds. Resigning himself to staying in bed, Logan let out an irritated huff and turned his head to glare at the wall opposite him. Then he blinked.

It was strangely bright in the room.

He frowned. They couldn’t have been asleep for _that_ long, surely. The sun only got this bright well after midday and Logan was certain that they hadn’t slept that long … well, _mostly_ certain. It was hard to tell. He glanced half-heartedly at his wrist and sighed. He had barely registered the loss when his watch had stopped working a few months ago, what with time being something of an abundant commodity as far as he was concerned, but there were times like this that he wished he hadn’t been quite so lax about caring for his timepiece.

Logan glared at the window. If he could just go over to it and see what position the sun was in …

Luckily, at that moment Charles muttered something incomprehensible and rolled over in his sleep, allowing Logan to hastily remove himself from the tangle of limbs and quickly slip out of bed. He hissed when his bare feet touched the floor; it felt as if it were made out of ice. 

A twinge of foreboding gripped his chest. Moving forward swiftly, he walked to the window, grabbed hold of the curtains, pulled them apart and looked outside.

‘Well fuck,’ he said. 

It was snowing. 

It had been snowing.

It had been snowing _a lot_.

‘Fuck,’ Logan said again, this time with more feeling. 

There were no two ways about it: all of his plans would have to be scrapped. There was no way that Charles would be getting down the mountain in weather like this. Even Logan disliked going out and about in such weather, and he was used to these conditions.

‘Logan?’

Logan glanced back to see Charles blinking groggily at him from the bed, his face puffy and creased with sleep. Charles stared for a moment, not quite awake just yet, but then his eyes focused on the window and in an instant, realising what he was seeing, his eyes brightened and his face broke into a smile. 

‘Snow!’ he exclaimed. Then all of a sudden he was clambering out of the bed, making his way eagerly over to the window, only to let out a yelp when his feet touched the floor. Logan let out a grunt, catching Charles as he tripped over himself, and held him steady as he pressed his nose up against the window, allowing his hands to linger a little as Charles leaned forward.

‘It’s snowing,’ Charles said, staring wide-eyed at the snow outside.

‘Yes,’ Logan said dryly, giving him a look. ‘It is.’

Charles blinked and his brow furrowed, as if he couldn’t fathom why Logan wasn’t as pleased as he was about this pronouncement. Then his eyes widened and he let out a soft ‘ _oh_ ’, his enthusiasm abruptly receding a little.

‘We can’t go down today, can we?’ he asked, his tone neutral.

Logan shook his head. ‘Not unless you’re planning on breaking your neck,’ he said grimly. 

Charles shifted a little. ‘So …’ he began, before trailing off.

Logan recognised it for the question it was. ‘We’ll have to wait for the snow to stop,’ he said, sighing. ‘And then I’ll go take a look and see what the damage is.’

Charles took this in, nodding thoughtfully. After a moment he bit his lip and turned to Logan. ‘Will it stop soon, do you think?’ he asked.

Logan smiled thinly. ‘No,’ he said, slowly shaking his head. ‘I really don’t think it will.’

*****

The snow went on for days. It often receded a little, causing Charles to turn to Logan with a question on his lips, but Logan always just shook his head. The snow wouldn’t stop till it stopped, he would say and indeed, the snow would pick up minutes later, coming down fast and in thick, cotton-like flurries.

Logan’s expression grew grimmer whenever he looked out of the window. His hopes that the snowfall had been a freak incident grew smaller with each day that passed. Winter had come early this year, it seemed, and if this one was anything like the others that Logan had experienced, then the snow wouldn’t disappear until the season was over. 

Which is to say, not for another few months. 

Logan often turned to look at Charles at this point in his ruminations, his expression troubled. Winters on the mountain were hard. The cold, for one, was intense, and caused languor and sluggishness even in Logan, who was relatively used to it. More problematic, however, was the question of food. Logan was very glad that he had not left things to the last minute and had the winter catch him unprepared. His food and wood stores were both full and these supplies usually lasted him through the winter and beyond, but this year was different – if things were going the way that he now expected them to, then he would not be alone for this winter, meaning that he had another mouth to feed. They could probably get by on what Logan had stored up, but they would have to be careful with how much they consumed and make very sure that they had enough to last them through the season. 

Logan sighed. It turned out that there were definite disadvantages to making your home on the side of an otherwise abandoned mountain.

Then again, if he hadn’t then he wouldn’t have met Charles, who, without Logan’s help, would now have been—

He quickly stifled the thought. The cold had a way of making you feel maudlin, and Logan knew that if he started off down that path then he’d be opening a whole bunch of doors that were better left shut.

He sighed and shook his head, before turning around, only to see Charles looking up at him from his chair.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked gently, continuing when Logan frowned, ‘You looked … sad there, for a minute.’

Logan shook his head. ‘It’s just the snow,’ he said gruffly, brushing off his melancholic mood and turning to glare through the window instead. ‘Damn thing won’t stop falling.’

Charles smiled sympathetically. Out of the two of them, he was dealing with their incarceration the best, never mind that Logan was used to spending his winters on the mountain. ‘It’s probably best to stop obsessing over it,’ he advised, glancing out of the window with a knowing expression. ‘It will only drive you mad.’ He reached out and patted the seat next to him, smiling at Logan. ‘Here,’ he said, ushering him over. ‘Come and sit by me. I can read to you, if you like – maybe that will help take your mind off things.’

As Logan hadn’t really been obsessing over the snow he didn’t really need the distraction, but after a moment he shrugged and headed over anyway. ‘Why not,’ he said airily, setting himself down in the chair and sprawling all over it. ‘I guess I could do with a bedtime story, sure.’

Charles smiled at him, his eyes twinkling. Then he picked up the book – another western, Logan noted with approval – flicked to the front, and began to read, his voice low and clear.

‘The sun shone hot over the prairie, beating down on the lone gunman who rode down the track …’

*****

Two days later, the snow stopped.

Logan, who had felt the change in the air, was the first to notice. He glanced up, listening intently, and had then stalked over to the window.

‘Chuck,’ he called a minute later, causing Charles to look up from where he had been nosing through the kitchen cabinets. ‘Come and take a look.’

Charles cocked his head, closing the cabinet doors as he did, and quickly hurried over to Logan’s side. He peered out of the window, looking around. At first he did not understand what he was supposed to be looking at. Then his expression brightened.

‘The snow!’ he exclaimed, suddenly cheerful. ‘It’s stopped!’

‘For now, at least,’ Logan agreed, nodding. ‘Doubt it will stay away for too long, though.’

‘Can we go outside?’ Charles asked, all but pressing his nose against the window as he stared out at the winter landscape, looking fascinated.

Logan snorted. ‘Can? More like we have to.’ At Charles’s raised eyebrow he continued. ‘There’s a lot of snow piled up around us right now. If we’re planning on leaving the house any time in the next few months then we ought to get all that snow cleared away before it starts coming down again and buries us completely. Plus, you know, we don’t want the roof coming down over our heads when we’re asleep or anything.’

The expression on Charles’s face seemed to indicate that he wasn’t all that keen on the roof coming down on them either.

‘Come on,’ Logan clapped a hand on Charles’s arm. ‘We’ll need to get dressed if we’re going to go out in all _that_.’ He jerked a thumb towards the window. 

‘It’s making me cold just looking at it,’ Charles agreed, before turning and following Logan.

*****

Logan didn’t have much in the way of possessions but he was a practical man at heart, which meant that he had enough snow gear to lend to Charles, as well as an extra shovel. In the past years, Logan had undertaken the job all by himself but he soon found that he appreciated Charles’s company when shovelling the snow away: not only did it take the two of them a fraction of the time that it usually took, but Charles was also very good company on what was otherwise a tiring and rather tedious job. He spoke and laughed as they started shovelling the snow away from the cabin but, as time went on, he saved his energy and the two of them proceeded to work in companionable silence, which was broken only very occasionally.

After an hour, they had cleared the area around the cabin, and they both stopped to regard their work. 

‘Hmm,’ Logan grunted, looking the cabin over. ‘Not bad for an hour’s work, eh Chuck?’

Charles shaded his eyes against the glare of the snow and looked up at the house. ‘Not bad at all,’ he said, smiling.

Logan grunted again and glanced up at the sky before bringing his gaze down to the roof of the house. ‘What do you say,’ he asked, eyes focused straight ahead. ‘Ready to have a go at the roof now?’

Charles squinted up at the roof. ‘I’m ready,’ he said, with a nod of determination. ‘It won’t take that long, will it?’

‘Nah,’ Logan shook his head. ‘And it’ll be a lot quicker with the two of us around.’

In the end, it took then just under half an hour to deal with the roof. Logan climbed up on top of it – ‘You only just got your leg working, bub, I ain’t going to let you screw it up again,’ he told Charles firmly – and Charles stayed down below, ready to shovel away the snow that Logan scraped off. Again, there was not much talking between the two, and they worked steadily until the job was done.

‘Good thing we finished when we did,’ Logan said as he clambered down from the roof, turning to gaze out into the distance. ‘There’s some clouds moving in that I don’t like the look of. It’ll probably start snowing again in a bit.’

‘Hmm,’ Charles nodded but his attention was fixed on the snow that they had heaped up a short distance away. He wandered over to it. ‘We should probably make use of the time we have, then.’

Logan frowned. ‘How do you me—’ he began, only to be stopped abruptly mid-sentence by a handful of cold, firmly packed snow hitting his face. He grunted in shock, the sound half-way between a snarl and a sputter, and by the time had recovered and shaken off the snow, he could see Charles bent over, laughing a full, bright laugh that Logan had never heard before.

‘I’m sorry,’ Charles was saying between heaving breaths, his cheeks pink with mirth. ‘But I couldn’t resist. I’m sorry, honest!’

Logan’s mouth twitched. ‘Well if that’s the way you want to play it,’ he growled, before immediately bending down to scrape up a handful of snow. 

Charles let out a shout of laughter at that, and immediately ran off, with Logan chasing him soon after.

At first, Logan was reluctant to pelt Charles with a snowball, worried that he would unintentionally hurt him. However, after being ambushed nearly half a dozen times and receiving a good number of snowballs straight to the face, Logan let out a growl and gave up all hopes of being solicitous, and threw himself into the game.

It was a lot more strenuous than he’d expected. 

Charles was, much to their mutual surprise, remarkably good at it. He was agile, quick on his feet like a cat, and as stealthy as one as well. His aim was also impressive, although he favoured close-distance attacks rather than long-range ones – as Logan found out to his detriment – and he was very good at covering his tracks, even in the snow. 

He soon grew tired, however. He was, after all, recovering from an injury and, furthermore, high altitudes such as this required a different level of fitness than most were used to. Logan was impressed that Charles had lasted running around for this long already, but the moment that he saw Charles bending over and gasping for breath, he immediately called the game off.

As it was, they agreed with only mild grumbling on either side that the score was a tie.

‘Come on,’ Logan said, patting Charles on the shoulder. ‘Let’s get in. Snow’s about to start up again.’ There were already a few flakes falling gently down from the sky, although the looming clouds made it clear that these flurries were only the start. 

‘I suppose we must,’ Charles sighed, looking almost longingly back at the snow covered fields around them. They were no longer pristine as they had been an hour ago; now they had boot prints and marks and gouges all over the surface. 

‘Don’t worry, Chuck,’ Logan said, catching him by the arm and pulling him close as the snow started to fall faster. ‘We won’t be running out of snow for a long time.’

‘You think so?’ Charles asked, sounding hopeful.

Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh believe me,’ he said darkly. ‘By the time this all melts? I promise you’ll be _sick_ of the stuff.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry that it has taken me so long - literally a year! - to update. I have no idea where the time went! I promise not to leave it so long in the future. Thanks for giving me the kick I needed, Ger <3

Several days later and, although Charles wasn’t sick of the snow just yet, he was nevertheless beginning to feel the effects of cabin fever, pacing restlessly through the cabin – which wasn’t all that large to begin with – and gazing out longingly through the windows at the snow-covered landscape around them. Logan watched him silently from his chair, his hands busy darning a tear in a sock or a shirt or a glove, keeping an eye out for any signs that Charles would break. Logan himself didn’t appreciate being cooped more than the next man – and it was even more difficult this year, what with having to share his personal space with a near stranger – but he had lived on the mountain for a long time, and he was used to being snowed in. Charles, it seemed, wasn’t so at ease with it.

‘It’s not claustrophobia,’ Charles had attempted to explain after one particularly fretful day. ‘It’s just …’ he hesitated. ‘I don’t like being shut in, that’s all,’ he said at last, frowning slightly. ‘I’m okay – and really, I’m pleased to be here, of course I am. I just wish I could go out a little as well.’

‘Don’t worry, Chuck,’ Logan would grunt. ‘We’ll get out of here soon enough.’

Charles would nod, trusting him implicitly, and then things would go on as before. 

Living with Charles was surprisingly easy. He was cheerful and accommodating and always mindful of Logan’s moods, distracting him when he too began to miss the outdoors and then studiously avoiding him whenever he began to feel too cooped up and restless. They had taken to sitting down in front of the fire each evening with one of Logan’s old paperback westerns, which Charles would read aloud, picking up from where he had left off the night before. Logan was almost always silent on these occasions, except when he let out a snort of amusement or an acknowledging grunt. Charles had a good reading voice: his voice was light and clear and it had a pleasant cadence to it that seemed to soothe Logan’s heart. It didn’t matter that he was reading a cheap, badly-written paperback – the warmth and amusement that Charles infused into the words would have kept Logan listening even if Charles had chosen to read the label off a tin can.

Of course there were disadvantages to having a live-in guest around you at all times, which Logan found out very quickly. Simply having living space was an issue, and there was a conscious effort on both their parts to keep their distance for at least a few hours of the day. The bathroom was a particular source of discomfort, particularly in the mornings when they were both sluggish and weren’t paying attention to where the other person was. 

This was compounded by the fact that the bathroom did not have a lock; Logan had never had any need of a bolt on the bathroom door prior to Charles’s arrival, but now he found out that it was something of a necessity. There had been more than one occasion where one of them had walked in on the other, and despite the fact that neither one of them was generally shy or prudish, these moments, brief as they were, seemed to cause them both a great deal of embarrassment. They had quickly worked out a system of bathroom use between the two of them, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t any snags; Logan vividly remembered each occasion when he had accidentally walked in on Charles with a sense of deep mortification that lingered tight in his stomach for hours afterwards.

Such occurrences were not entirely uncommon. However, what had stood out the most for Logan was the very first time that Charles had seen Logan shirtless. Logan had stripped off his shirt just as Charles had entered the room, and he had stopped still and stood staring at Logan’s chest from the threshold for almost an entire minute. Logan, distracted, had at first thought that the staring was due to his musculature, which even he could admit was more than a little impressive. However, Charles had an odd expression on his face, and when he next spoke his voice sounded strangely off.

‘Logan, you … what happened?’

Logan glanced down at himself and then immediately scowled and started pulling his shirt back on again. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said tightly, pulling his arms back through the sleeves and quickly buttoning the front up to hide his chest. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Logan, you have scars,’ Charles said bluntly, folding his arms over his chest with an expression of concern. ‘Serious ones. All over your front. And I’m sure if I looked at your back then I would see them there too. What happened to you?’

‘I said don’t worry about it,’ Logan growled, his back tensing. He sighed a moment later, feeling strangely guilty for putting a wary, apprehensive expression on Charles’s face. ‘It’s … personal,’ he said haltingly after a pause. ‘I just don’t like to talk about it.’

Charles’s expression softened and he reached out and laid a gentle hand on Logan’s arm. ‘I understand,’ he said, giving him a sympathetic smile. ‘And I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to pry.’

Logan grunted, the skin of his bare arm feeling very warm under Charles’s touch. ‘Not your fault,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Curiosity ain’t exactly illegal. And you got more reason than most to be curious about things.’

‘Not to mention that I’m used to not getting answers,’ Charles said wryly, before shaking his head. ‘That wasn’t an accusation, just so you know. I’m just a little frustrated that I don’t seem to be remembering _anything_.’

‘It’ll happen,’ Logan said staunchly. ‘Give it time.’

‘But it’s been weeks already,’ Charles sighed. ‘I’m honestly not sure at this point that I’ll ever get my memories back.’

Logan considered. ‘Maybe nothing’s sparking because nothing here’s familiar to you,’ he said at last. ‘Which, to be fair, ain’t all that surprising. This isn’t exactly a place where people spend a lot of time.’

‘No,’ Charles’s lips twitched. ‘I don’t suppose it is.’

They stayed there for moment, standing silently beside each other.

Logan shifted. ‘It’s kinda cold in here, bub,’ he said at last.

‘Hmm?’ Charles blinked. Then he jumped. ‘Oh, right, of course,’ he said, quickly removing his hand from Logan’s arm, where it had been resting for the past few minutes. ‘I’ll – er – I’ll leave you to get dressed. Or undressed. Whichever.’ And he quickly walked out of the room, his cheeks slightly pink.

Logan watched him for a moment before shrugging and focusing once more on getting undressed. He reached down to unbutton his trousers, then paused, and then turned and firmly pushed the door shut. 

He was going to have to think very seriously about getting the damn thing a lock.

*****

The days passed by slowly after that. Logan kept one eye out of the window, monitoring the weather, and a few times he and Charles even managed to step outside, trying to clear away as much snow from the cabin as they could before it started up all over again. Things grew comfortable between them: their routine borne of necessity soon became a rhythm, and sharing space with each other didn’t chafe as much as it used to.

In fact, Logan admitted to himself in a brief moment of honesty, it didn’t chafe at _all_.

Logan had never thought that there could be anyone in the world whom he liked – whom he _tolerated_ – enough to want to live with, but he had to admit that life with Charles was actually … pleasant.

That was by far the most disconcerting aspect to living with Charles.

Logan was determined not to think about it, however. He was nothing if not a practical man and, as he couldn’t really do anything about the current situation that he found himself in, he firmly resolved not to worry about things until his circumstances changed. So he continued as normal, tucking his concerns away where they belonged, and allowed himself to enjoy Charles’s company.

And then the snowfall began to peter out.

It happened gradually. The thick, unceasing flow of flakes thinned out, turning into light flurries. The wind stopped blowing quite so harshly and the clouds started to look white again instead of dull and grey. The air felt cold, but not quite as bitter as before.

And then one day Logan woke up and found that the snowfall had ceased altogether; the snow on the ground was firm and settled, and there was even a pale ray of sunshine visible in the patchy sky.

Logan stared out at the white terrain for one long, silent moment. Then he turned around and proceeded to go on with his day.

That night, though, as the moon shone brightly overhead, its soft light reflecting off the snow, Logan suggested to Charles that they go out and take a walk.

‘Now?’ Charles asked, surprised by this abrupt change to their routine. ‘Won’t it be cold? And … dark?’

Logan let out a huff of amusement. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he said, holding up a torch and a thermos flask. ‘Relax, Chuck. I’ve done this before. Believe me, it’s worth it.’

‘Well … okay,’ Charles said dubiously, but he obediently put on his outdoor things and followed Logan outside the cabin.

They were both quiet as they made their way through the snow, their eyes fixed on their feet to ensure that they didn’t inadvertently step in a snow drift and lose their footing. When Logan decided that they had come far enough, he came to a stop; Charles, following closely behind, walked straight into his back with a shout of surprise. 

‘Careful, Chuck,’ Logan said, amused. He turned to face Charles, watching as he blinked his surprise away. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘This is it.’

Charles’s eyebrows knitted together and he looked around. The view was pretty enough under the moonlight, but it wasn’t anything that he hadn’t seen before.

‘Not there, Chuck,’ Logan said, nudging him gently with his elbow. ‘Up there.’ 

Charles followed his eyes up to the sky.

The sky was dark but, for the first time in recent memory, wholly clear of clouds. The moon was round, full and swollen, and in the distance gleamed dozens of small, tiny stars, scattered across the sky like jewels.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Charles said quietly.

Logan turned to look at him. He found himself unable to look away, his gaze held by the sight of Charles’s upturned face bathed in moonlight.

After a moment, Charles glanced over at him. He caught the look on Logan’s face – Logan wasn’t at all sure what exactly his expression was saying, but Charles seemed to read something into it – and, slowly, he reached out with a hand, allowing it to brush gently against Logan’s. Logan felt himself go very still at the touch, but he forced himself not to tense. Still holding Logan’s gaze, Charles carefully curled his hand around Logan’s, linking them together and smiling softly when Logan didn’t pull away. 

They stood like that for a long while, their hands loosely twined together as they stared up at the night sky.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a long time before the two of them decided to go back inside. They didn’t speak; they’d just stood there, listening to the deafening silence of the mountains, their hands linked together in a touch that neither of them acknowledged. The wind had nipped at their faces but they hadn’t minded so much; it was only when they had gone back to the cottage and had shut the door behind them that they had realised just how cold they were.

‘It’s a good thing we didn’t put the fire out,’ Charles said, his teeth chattering as he hurried over to the hearth, his de-gloved hands stretched out in anticipation of the fiery warmth. ‘I don’t think I could have waited for you to start the fire otherwise.’

Logan raised an eyebrow at that. ‘Who said I’d have done it? You’ve been here long enough to know how to start one by yourself.’

Charles smiled rather sheepishly at that. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But somehow it’s always better when you do it.’

Logan snorted. ‘That so?’ He shook his head and joined Charles by the fire. ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Chuck.’

Charles looked back at him innocently, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that made Logan snort.

They stood there for a long moment, holding their hands out over the fire. When Logan noticed Charles shifting from foot to foot, however, he frowned. 

‘You should probably be getting to bed,’ he said gruffly, drawing his hands back from the hearth.

Charles, however, shook his head. ‘Not yet,’ he said, still looking at the flames. He then turned to Logan. ‘Couldn’t we stay here for a little while? In front of the fire?’

Logan looked at him for a minute and then sighed. ‘Sure,’ he said, shaking his head, and then turned to go and pull a thick rug in front of the fire. Charles obligingly helped him put it in place, and then went to make some tea while Logan fetched them both a blanket from a cupboard in the bedroom. A few minutes later, they were both settled comfortably in front of the fire, swathed in blankets, and with tea in their hands. Logan had made a token protest at the tea but had taken the mug as soon as Charles, ignoring all complaints, had shoved it into his hands.

The two of them sat there, drinking, and sitting together in a comfortable silence.

It was only after a good few minutes that Charles spoke. ‘So the snow has stopped,’ he said quietly.

Logan didn’t outwardly react. ‘The snow has stopped,’ he agreed evenly.

‘It will be safe to go down the mountain soon,’ Charles continued.

‘It will.’

Charles looked down, toying with a frayed thread on the blanket. ‘Do you know how soon?’ he asked in a deceptively light tone.

Logan was silent for a moment. ‘A day or two,’ he said at last, his expression unreadable. ‘The snow will be firm still, and not too wet. It’ll be manageable, as long as you feel up to it.’ He glanced at Charles. ‘Do you?’ he asked, watching him keenly.

Charles opened his mouth, hesitated, and then sighed, looking away. ‘I’ll be ready,’ he said quietly, gazing into the fire.

Logan looked at him. Neither of them spoke for a minute.

‘I suppose you’ll be glad to have the place back to yourself,’ Charles said abruptly. He wasn’t meeting Logan’s eyes and his smile was strained; his words were probably supposed to be light-hearted and teasing but instead they came across as hollow. ‘You won’t have to deal with a stranger ruining your routine and getting underfoot all the time.’

Logan’s mouth tightened. He did not look at Charles.

‘It’ll be a relief to see the back of me, I expect,’ Charles continued, still with that same forced smile that was so awful to look at. ‘You’ll get to have a bit of peace and quiet, for a change. You’ll be … by yourself again.’ An odd note had entered his voice.

Logan didn’t answer. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Charles wasn’t waiting for a response, however. He was instead gazing into the fire, his brow creased. ‘You are so alone up here,’ he said softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. ‘So alone …’

Logan stiffened. ‘Alone doesn’t mean lonely, Chuck,’ he growled. The words didn’t sound convincing, even to himself.

Charles didn’t seem to be listening. ‘You’re completely isolated.’ He sounded pained. ‘So cut off from everyone else … So far away from another human being.’

Logan scowled down at the floor. ‘Yeah, well, not many people choose to live up a mountain, bub,’ he said stiffly.

Charles turned to look at him. ‘You did,’ he said, his voice quiet. ‘You _chose_ to.’

Logan didn’t say anything.

Charles moved so that his body was angled towards Logan. ‘You know, you never really answered me,’ he said quietly. ‘Before. About why you came up here. About why you wanted to be away from people.’

‘I didn’t,’ Logan agreed, his voice a low, warning growl.

‘Will you tell me now?’ Charles’ voice was gentle, rather than pressing. He turned to look Logan straight in the eye, his hand hovering against Logan’s knee, as if he wished to clasp it, but somehow didn’t dare to. ‘About what happened to you?’ His voice was soft, low. It was clear, from his expression, that whatever Logan answered – whether an agreement or a dismissal – he would accept and not press further.

Logan did not answer immediately. Something dark and shameful stirred in his chest, unsettled from the place where he had buried it deep, trailed by tendrils of fear: the fear of revealing himself – his true self – to another person. To Charles. 

He swallowed and then glanced at Charles. Charles looked back at him, his gaze unflinching. Logan’s throat tightened at his look, and he found himself filled with a sudden yearning – a yearning that he had not felt in years. A yearning to unburden himself to another person. A yearning to be _known_.

After a minute, Logan closed his eyes and let out a sigh of resignation. ‘Fine,’ he said quietly, even as his heart pounded fiercely inside his chest. ‘Why not. Someone needs to hear it. It might as well be you. Besides, it’s not like it will matter after ...’ He trailed off and then frowned down at the fireplace, where the warm, cheerful fire was blazing away merrily. _Incongruously_ , Logan thought grimly.

Charles lowered his hand and squeezed Logan’s knee. He didn’t speak.

Logan looked down at the hand on his leg. He watched it for a minute. And then he took a deep breath.


	11. Chapter 11

‘I’m not sure how much you’ve guessed about me,’ Logan began haltingly. ‘My childhood, where I grew up … maybe one day I’ll tell you everything that got me to where I am, but for now … well, that shit’s not important right now. What is important is this,’ he turned to look at Charles. ‘Fact is, a long time ago, I used to be in the army. Didn’t expect it to stick, at first, but turned out that I was good at it. Even got promoted a couple of times, if you can believe it.’

Charles’s expression flickered with interest. ‘You were a soldier?’ he asked, curious.

Logan’s lips twitched upwards in a humourless smile. ‘At first,’ he agreed, non-committal. 

‘Hmm.’ Charles gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘Go on.’

Logan licked his dry lips and then continued. ‘It was a satisfying sort of life, in the beginning,’ he said gruffly. ‘I fought hard, followed orders when I had to, got myself a bit of a reputation … and somewhere along the line I found myself rising up through the ranks.’ He grimaced. ‘Just about the worst thing I could’ve done, turns out. Wasn’t long before I came to the attention of someone, see? For me, it was this general called William Stryker. Quiet sonofabitch … no one seemed to know anything about him, and by the time I found out ... Well, fact is that he asked me to join a covert division of the army, and I agreed. Damn stupid bastard.’ It was obvious that these last words were about Logan himself.

‘A covert division?’ Charles repeated, looking thoughtful. He kept his blue eyes on Logan. ‘Interesting.’

Logan snorted. ‘That’s a word for it,’ he said grimly. ‘There’s plenty of people who’d think the same – who would pay good money to know about half the stuff that went on there. Not that they’d ever get the chance, of course. They’d need a high fucking clearance level just to know that it even existed.’ Logan shook his head. ‘The point is, what we did weren’t the kinds of things that ever went on any records or ever got reported in any newspaper.’

‘I understand,’ Charles said quietly.

Logan looked up. ‘Do you?’ he asked intently. He then sighed and closed his eyes. ‘No,’ he said, answering the question for himself. ‘No, you don’t. You _can’t_. Someone like you, Chuck – someone like you couldn’t imagine the sort of things that we did. And I don’t mean that as a bad thing.’ He shook his head, running his hands over his face. ‘The things I did while I was there, Charles … Bad things. Terrible things.’ He turned away, unable to meet Charles’s eyes. ‘Things that no civilised man should rightly do.’

Charles remained still, unmoving. He did not reach towards Logan, but neither did he draw away.

‘There are no excuses for the things I did,’ Logan said bluntly, meeting Charles’s eyes, needing him to understand. ‘You can say you’re following orders all you like, but a man knows what’s right and what’s wrong, you know what I mean?’

‘Yes,’ Charles nodded, his expression serious. ‘Yes, I think so.’

Logan closed his eyes. ‘Well,’ he said grimly. ‘I knew what I was doing was crossing the line but I went ahead and did it anyway. And I’m talking bad shit, Chuck.’ He turned and looked Charles straight in the eye, his gaze frank and unflinching. ‘The brass might have dressed it up pretty and made out that we were the good guys in that situation, but we all knew without a doubt – there were no good guys there. Only bad ones, and that was us. But we believed what we wanted to believe and we hurt whoever they told us to hurt, and that’s all we cared about.’

Charles leaned forward, his eyes meeting Logan’s unflinchingly. ‘Tell me,’ he said.

And so Logan did. He told him of the people he had killed and maimed and tortured, all under the orders of other men. He told Charles about the blood he had spilt – his own and that of others, and how the horror of it had threatened to overwhelm him. He told Charles about the bodies he had left in his wake, the trail of destruction and terror; how even his comrades in his platoon – brutal and bloodthirsty the lot of them – had marvelled at his savagery, calling him ‘the Wolverine’, in the mockery of an honour. He told Charles all this and more, never stopping – he couldn’t stop, not now that he had started. He spoke and he spoke and he spoke, until his voice was hoarse, and all of his sins were laid bare for Charles to condemn him with.

Charles was watching him in silence, his expression unreadable. ‘And then?’ he asked quietly, when Logan had finished speaking.

Logan closed his eyes. ‘And then,’ he said tiredly. ‘And then, at long last, I came back to my senses and saw myself for what I was. I realised the truth about myself and then I did the first good thing I had done in years: I quit that sorry operation and got the heck out of there.’

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘Something tells me that you’re missing a few details there,’ he said evenly.

Logan sent him a wry look. ‘You’re getting to know me a bit too well,’ he muttered, before his expression turned serious again. ‘You’re right, though. That’s – that was the short version I gave you.’

‘And what’s the long version?’ Charles asked, patient.

‘The long version?’ Logan sighed, looking tired. ‘The long version is that I mutinied, broke a few unauthorised POWs out of prison, killed a few of my former officers, and burnt all remaining records of my existence before getting the fuck out of there and never looking back.’ He took a deep breath. ‘It doesn’t matter what happened after that, Chuck. Nothing I did then or since can ever make up for those things I did back then.’ He shook his head. ‘I have no defence for it. All I can say is that I wasn’t completely in the right mind back then. The things I did … the way I was … I was an animal, Chuck. Nothing better than a goddamn animal.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘Truth is, I ought to have been put out of my misery a long time ago.’

‘Don’t say that!’ Charles said sharply. 

‘I don’t have to,’ Logan said, meeting his eyes. There was pain there, long-held and crippling. ‘I think it, every damn day.’

Charles stared at him, looking stricken. Then his expression became quiet and grave again. ‘Tell me the rest,’ he said simply.

Logan shrugged. ‘There’s nothing more to tell,’ he said. ‘You know the worst of it. That’s the important thing.’

‘And the scars?’ Charles asked quietly. His eyes bore into Logan’s. ‘Tell me how you got your scars.’

Logan didn’t answer for a moment. When he did at last speak, his words were stilted. ‘I … I wasn’t able to make a clean break,’ he said haltingly. ‘I was captured soon after I went on my rampage. I’d already killed a couple of men by that point – my own men, guys from my company. My old buddies didn’t like that, funnily enough.’ He unconsciously rubbed at a section low on his chest, as if remembering one of the many ways in which they had expressed displeasure. ‘Made that pretty clear, I think.’

Charles’s expression flickered, but he didn’t say anything. 

‘In any case,’ Logan sat up, now clearly bent on finishing the story as quickly as possible. ‘I was half dead before they let up that night. They probably thought that I wouldn’t be any trouble by that point. But like I said, Chuck – I was an animal back then. And for better or worse, that animal wanted to survive.’ Logan leaned back and closed his eyes. ‘I got free of my restraints,’ he said, his words toneless. ‘I slipped into camp, even half dead as I was.’ He opened his eyes and met Charles’s gaze. ‘I killed every last one of them that night.’

Charles’s eyes didn’t move away from his.

Logan scrubbed his hands over his eyes before slowly lowering them back into his lap. He then slowly raised his eyes to meet Charles’s. ‘So there you have it, Chuck,’ he said quietly. ‘Now you know what I am. I’m a coward and a killer and that’s why I live up here, on my own, far away from everyone else.’ He looked down at the ground. ‘So you see, it’s not that I don’t want to be around other people, Chuck. It’s just that I don’t _deserve_ to.’

Charles was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t believe that,’ he said abruptly. He seemed to take strength from saying these words aloud and he sat up straighter, meeting Logan’s eyes. ‘I don’t believe that at _all_.’

Logan shook his head, his mouth pulled up in a grimace. ‘Then you weren’t listening,’ he said bluntly. ‘I know what I did, Charles. I know what I am.’

But Charles was shaking his head. ‘I’m not going to say that what you did wasn’t wrong,’ he said quietly. ‘Or that it is something that you shouldn’t fiercely regret or repent.’ He looked up and reached over and grasped Logan’s arm. ‘What I can say is this: Logan, I know you.’ Logan looked up sharply at that, meeting his eyes. ‘I _know_ you. You are a good man, Logan. I know it.’

Logan couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘How can you know that?’ he mumbled, looking down at the ground. ‘You can’t know that.’

Charles raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ve been living with you for a little while now,’ he said, smiling a little. ‘I think, given the circumstances, I have _some_ authority on the matter. Not everyone would have done for me what you have done, you know.’ His expression sobered as he saw that his words made no impact on Logan, and he squeezed the hand that still lay on Logan’s arm. ‘We are all of us capable of terrible things,’ he said quietly. ‘But we are also all capable of goodness.’ He moved his hand down Logan’s arm and then gently clasped his hand. ‘No one is beyond redemption, my friend, he said earnestly, looking into Logan’s eyes. ‘No one. Certainly not you.’

Logan felt his chest tighten and he lowered his head, allowing it to rest against Charles’s shoulder. He felt Charles still under his touch but he couldn’t bring himself to think about that. ‘If that were so,’ he said gruffly, not allowing himself to meet Charles’s eyes. ‘If that were the case then why do I feel the way I do? Why do I still feel like complete shit?’

‘That’s not a bad thing,’ Charles said gently. ‘Feeling bad for the things you’ve done … that shows that you _care_. I would be much more worried if you didn’t feel that way. But you shouldn’t let that guilt keep you from living, Logan. You shouldn’t let it keep you from being with other people. You can only redeem yourself if you allow yourself the opportunity … and Logan, you _deserve_ that opportunity.’

Logan closed his eyes. ‘I wish I could believe that,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’m not like you, Chuck. I’m not _good_. I’m not good enough to be with other people.’ He swallowed, his throat tight. ‘I’m not good enough to be here with _you_.’

Charles was silent for a long moment. ‘You know,’ he said at last, speaking carefully. ‘Sometimes we tell ourselves something so many times that we start to believe it. We tell lies about ourselves because the truth … the truth is so much more dangerous.’ He drew back then, forcing Logan to raise his head and meet his eyes. ‘The truth is, Logan, you are a _good man_. The truth is, you are not out here, alone in the mountains, because you deserve to be – the truth is that you are here because you are _afraid_.’ His tone gentled at Logan’s expression. ‘You have so much hatred for your past that you cannot see past it,’ he said gently. ‘And because you cannot see past it, you never believed that someone else out there _could_.’ He reached out and lightly touched Logan’s face. ‘You are so much better than you think you are, Logan. You might not be able to see that, but I can.’

Logan looked at him. He could see the gentleness in Charles’s eyes – the compassion. Slowly, he closed his eyes and bent his head again, almost in submission, so that his forehead was leaning against Charles’s. ‘I trust you, Chuck,’ he said, and as he spoke he knew that he was telling the truth. ‘I trust you.’

That was all he said. There was nothing else to say.

He felt Charles smile against him. ‘I know,’ he said quietly, nothing but truth in his voice. ‘I trust you too.’


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!

They stayed there together for a while, their foreheads lightly pressed together in one sole point of physical connection. It was oddly calming in a way that Logan, who generally avoided all prolonged contact with another person, felt unable to explain. At length, he became aware of the time and, realising that it was late, he reluctantly drew back and opened his eyes. To his surprise, he saw that Charles’s eyes were already open and that he was studying Logan with an odd expression on his face.

‘What?’ Logan demanded self-consciously, feeling suddenly awkward under the unwavering scrutiny.

Charles ran his eyes over Logan’s face one more time and then just shook his head and smiled. His expression was a little sad. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ he said quietly.

Logan swallowed and lowered his gaze. ‘It won’t be forever,’ he said gruffly, not able to meet Charles’s eyes. ‘I’ll be around. You know that.’

The words seemed to ring hollow, even to his own ears. Charles didn’t reply.

‘Besides,’ Logan added, forcing himself to continue in place of meeting Charles’s gaze. ‘You’re probably not going to miss me for long. There’ll be other people down the mountain – people who can help you much better than I ever could. They’ll … they’ll sort you out. You’ll be much better off with them, Chuck.’

Charles regarded him thoughtfully. ‘You think so?’ he asked, expressionless.

Logan’s lips curved up humourlessly. ‘I know so,’ he said bleakly.

Charles watched him for a moment. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said quietly. He then pulled away and, rubbing the back of his neck, he let out a little laugh. ‘Then again, perhaps you aren’t. Maybe they’ll be better equipped to help me but–’ he looked down at his hands. ‘But I think you’re very wrong to imagine that I won’t miss you. In fact, I _know_ it.’ He then looked up at Logan with a wry expression on his face. ‘To be perfectly honest, Logan, I … I have to confess that I am quite reluctant to say goodbye to you. In fact, I am dreading it.’

Logan stared at him, his heart beating fast for some indefinable reason. ‘You are?’ he asked.

‘Of course I am.’ Charles looked away and let out a forced laugh. ‘You’re the only person I know in the world, Logan. Of course I’m scared to let you go.’

Logan felt a sharp twist in his gut at that. He swallowed, wishing that he had thought to bring himself a glass of whisky before settling down, and then rubbed his hand over his eyes and sighed. ‘See, now that’s why you need to go lookin’ elsewhere,’ he said tiredly, forcing himself to meet Charles’s eyes. ‘You need to find your people, Chuck. I—’ he paused and then gritted his teeth and went on. ‘I’d be fine with having you up here all the time – more than fine, even – but that … that wouldn’t be fair on _you_.’ His expression softened at the look on Charles’s face. ‘There’ll be people out there searching for you, Charles. People who know you, who _love_ you. You need to find them.’

Charles was looking down at his feet. ‘You think so?’ he asked, his tone deceptively light.

Logan smiled. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, injecting more humour into his voice than he actually felt. ‘Guy like you? There’ll be newspaper campaigns and rewards and pictures on milk cartons and everything.’

Charles smiled slightly at that. ‘I suppose it’d be good to know I’m wanted,’ he said slowly.

Logan didn’t say anything.

‘I mean … It would be pretty awful to think that there was no one in the world who’d care about the fact that I had disappeared,’ Charles said with an awkward laugh.

Logan didn’t tell him that, with the exception of Charles, there was no one in the world who would care about _him_ disappearing either. 

‘What about that Erik guy?’ he asked gruffly after a pause, ignoring the pang that arose within him at the name. ‘You forget about him? Sounds like he’d care if you just upped and disappeared, bub.’

Charles glanced down instinctively at the watch on his wrist. ‘Perhaps,’ he said doubtfully, before shrugging. ‘Who can say? I have no idea what we were to one another, after all.’

But Logan knew that they both had a very good idea of what they might have been.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then:

‘Logan?’ Charles spoke haltingly, his voice very quiet. ‘What if – what if no one out there actually wants me?’ He was looking down at the floor, his humour stripped away, and he looked small, almost vulnerable.

Logan glanced at him sharply, noting the paleness of his face and the tension in his jaw, and then looked away. ‘Well,’ he said gruffly, deliberately avoiding Charles’s eye as he nudged a piece of protruding firewood with his boot. ‘I guess you’ll just have to come back here and live with me, then.’

Charles looked up at that and, even from out of the corner of his eyes, Logan could see the look of shining hope and gratitude that lit up his face.

‘I–’ Charles made to respond to his words, but then just shook his head, almost in wonderment, and kept silent.

They stayed like that for a long moment.

At long last, Logan sighed and looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Come on,’ he said, pulling Charles gently and reluctantly getting to his feet. ‘We’d best get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.’

Charles sighed. Then he gave a decisive nod and rose to his feet. ‘We do,’ he agreed, his voice a low murmur. He then turned to Logan and, leaning forward, he brought himself in close and placed a soft, careful kiss on Logan’s cheek. ‘Goodnight,’ he said quietly, and then turned and walked through to the bedroom.

Logan’s breath was caught in his chest, the skin on his cheek burning from the contact of moments before. He looked after Charles’s departed figure, his expression full of longing.

Then he sighed, closed his eyes, and followed after him.


End file.
